Blue Christmas
by amber2011
Summary: Mercedes meets a mysterious stranger one lonely Christmas Eve in 1975, little did she know he wasn't all what he seemed and could change her life forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Sam and Mercedes meet in Spoony's Diner on Christmas Eve in 1975, setting off a catastrophic series of events.

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Warning:** Mild cursing

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Mercedes stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the gaudy multicolored lights shining in the window of Spoony's Diner. The red, green, and blue, oval-shaped bulbs reminded her of a grammar school Christmas tree. She preferred one or two colors, not a crazy rainbow; and she thought of Wolford's Steak Inn about two blocks away, how classy it looked with a basic color scheme of blue and gold. The restaurant's Old English lettered sign painted in black, and its open flame street lantern near the entrance were reminiscent of a European village. She sighed and tugged at the waist of her bright green waitress uniform; it was too tight around her hips and generous bust line.

Old man Spoony, the diner owner, smiled and placed his withered hand on her shoulder, a Santa hat was on his bald head:

"I like the colors."

"Have you seen Wolford's?"

Spoony folded his arms and shrugged. In the old days, he boxed, and he never got out of the habit of wearing wife beaters, which is what he wore now, but any muscle he had was gone and replaced with loose skin and sagging flesh. The Marilyn Monroe tattoo on his shoulder stretched a bit when he flexed his arms, then returned to its wrinkled state.

"We ain't Wolford's," he said and went back to the kitchen.

Mercedes sat down to the counter next to Quinn who was smoking a brown cloves cigarette and flipping through Rolling Stone with Bonnie Raitt on the cover. Her blonde hair was twisted in a bun; frosted pink lip gloss coated her thin lips. She wore too much Shulton's Blue Jeans cologne, and the spicy, floral scent, almost overpowered the sweet cloves smoke surrounding her; her uniform had a faint coffee stain on the skirt.

"The old ladies will be here soon," Quinn said, "I hope they don't stay long."

"They always do," Mercedes said, "Besides, it's Christmas Eve."

Quinn closed the magazine and put out the cigarette.

"Yeah," she said, "Oh, guess what?"

"What?"

"I got that Mrs. Claus mini dress off layaway, I'm wearing it tonight to Paula's Christmas party."

"You mean the red velvet one with the white fur trim?"

"That's the one."

"I thought Puck didn't want to go to Paula's."

"I changed his mind."

"Hope you have fun."

"Thanks," Quinn said, then she lowered her voice, "I'm going to surprise Puck and not wear any panties under my new dress."

"That'll get his attention."

"I hope so. He's bored with me. So what are you doing tonight?"

"Playing it by ear."

"No parties?"

"Not my thing."

"Hmm… Puck is picking me up today."

"No bus for you today," Mercedes said. She and Quinn usually took the number 13 bus together, but they got off at different stops. Mercedes was glad Puck was picking her up. She needed quiet time to think.

"Yeah, now I won't see Roscoe flirt with you. You should go out with him."

Roscoe was the bus driver and about thirty years older than Mercedes, had a salt and pepper Afro and beard, and sported a gold tooth; his skin was the color of molasses and wrinkle-free and reeked of Old Spice.

He smiled at Mercedes a little too hard whenever they got on the bus and always talked to her about how he was Bill 'Bojangles' Robinson's great-nephew, had a new Cadillac, and once shook Martin Luther King's hand at a rally in 1963. It got on Mercedes' nerves that Quinn thought he was such a good match for her.

"I'll pass."

"Why? He seems nice."

"Would you date him?"

"I'm married."

"If you weren't married?"

Quinn blushed.

"Well I…. I uh, well I…"

"So why should I date him?"

"I was only trying to help."

"Like I said, I'll pass."

"Sorry," Quinn said.

"It's ok."

Mercedes then gazed around the diner and admired the silver snowflakes she and Quinn hung from the ceiling, twinkling in the fluorescent light. Spoony let them decorate the Christmas tree that stood in the corner, and they, wrapped gold tinsel garlands around the tree, draped it in white lights and put a big star covered in silver glitter on top. Underneath the tree was empty cardboard boxes wrapped in green and red paper and tied with white satin ribbons. Bing Crosby sang of a White Christmas on the old Seeburg jukebox in the corner; his classic crooning drifted through the diner.

Quinn nudged her.

"Look, they're coming."

Mercedes looked out the window. It was late afternoon, and the sunset's orange light was brilliant against the frozen white snow covering the parking lot. And then she saw the group of widows, gray-haired in sensible shoes, heavy wool coats buttoned up to their chins, walking toward the diner entrance.

They got off their stools and went to the door, greeting each old woman as they walked inside, complaining of the cold. Quinn took their coats while Mercedes seated them in the vinyl jade green booths, handing them plastic menus. Spoony and Clovis, the fry cook, came out from the kitchen, saying hello the geriatric brigade. Clovis teased and flirted with them, calling them silver foxes.

"Y'all look sweeter than candy canes," he said, smiling at them, "So who's been naughty? And who's been nice? Clovis used to be a male model until he broke his nose in a car accident, and cut his face on the windshield glass. Now he looked slightly deformed.

"Merry Christmas, Clovis," one of the women said, blushing as she sat down, "You're looking handsome."

"Welcome, Ladies," Spoony said, "We got all our Christmas specials ready."

In Mercedes' mind, these lonely ladies were the Discarded Ones, like unmatched socks, forgotten toys, or loose change you found beneath the sofa cushion you didn't realize was there. As she took their orders, she saw under their false smiles an overwhelming sadness.

When their food arrived, the ladies displayed a façade of holiday cheer as they ate the warmed-over turkey and crumbled stuffing. They spoke of past Christmases and how things used to be in Lima. Wistful nostalgia filled their stories, and it was all Mercedes could do to keep her composure, because their stories broke her heart.

One of the women, with blue-tinted teased hair and refrigerator white dentures, described how the church bells used to ring at midnight.

"Everyone heard those bells. You knew it was Christmas when you heard them."

"Why did they stop?" Mercedes asked as she poured the woman more coffee into her empty green cup.

"Why I don't know, but I miss them."

Then another woman, an immigrant from Ireland, who had haunting green eyes, said to everyone:

"May I trouble you all with a song?"

"Go on, sing," they said.

So she sang an Irish Christmas carol her voice was pure as crystal:

 _I sing of a night in Bethlehem_

 _A night as bright as dawn_

 _I sing of that night in Bethlehem_

 _The night the Word was born_

Suddenly, she wasn't old and turned into a young girl in Ireland, singing by the fireplace in her father's house. And the stages of her quiet but grand life unfolded with each word she sang: a single woman sailing for America at 22 with only a small black leather bag containing one dress, lace handkerchiefs, and one hundred dollars; a married mother of six who worked as a stenographer, a doting wife, a runner that completed the Boston marathon, collapsing at the finish line, and now she was a widow, sitting in a diner in Lima Ohio, capturing her life in a single song; and Mercedes saw her hair transform from silver to a lustrous red, but her eyes remained unchanged, and they sparkled like emeralds. When she finished, everyone clapped, and tears welled up in Mercedes eyes, Spoony handed her a napkin and patted her arm in a fatherly fashion. The Discarded Ones prepared for their imminent departure, clutching their canes, and filling their pockets with the green and red ribbon candy in a large glass bowl next to the cash register. Finally, they walked out into the twilight darkness, back to their solitary lives, and Mercedes and Quinn cleared the tables, pocketing the crumpled dollars left behind.

Spoony put on his long plaid coat and hunter's cap, a bottle of Jack Daniels in his coat pocket; he handed each of them a white envelope containing their holiday bonus and bid them a Merry Christmas, before walking out and getting into his beloved 1963 greenish-blue Chevrolet Belair Sedan. Clovis left next. He kissed their cheeks beneath the mistletoe in the doorway, smiling mischievously, his gray eyes shined, as he waved goodbye from the parking lot, the snowflakes falling into his thick black hair. Quinn sat in a booth near the door, waiting for Puck.

"When are you leaving?" She said to Mercedes.

"Closing time. Spoony said I could get some extra hours."

"But it's Christmas, go home."

"I need the money."

"You just got a nice bonus and tips."

"Nothing wrong with making money."

Are you sure you can handle things by yourself?"

"I'm not expecting many customers. And I've been here alone before."

"I know but – "

"It's fine, Quinn."

Quinn let the subject drop and fiddled with the zipper on her white fake fur coat. To spruce herself up for Puck, she took her hair out of its bun and let it hang free; her golden mane reached her tiny waist; she applied powder blue eyeshadow and touched up her lip gloss. The whiteness of the coat made her eyes look bluer than the ocean. Then they heard a loud honking and a shout:

"Hey, Quinn!"

Puck was outside on his roaring motorcycle looking like a typical jailbird with his black leather skull and bones jacket and biker boots. Quinn slung her blue velvet purse over her shoulder, stood up and hugged Mercedes.

"Be careful."

"Merry Christmas," Mercedes said, stroking her soft hair.

"Merry Christmas."

She went outside and hopped on the bike, wrapping her arms around Puck's waist, as he sped out of the parking lot, her hair blowing in the cold wind.

And Mercedes was alone.

She mopped the floor, took out the garbage, and had a long cigarette break. After taking inventory in the storage room, she took another break and got her View-Master out of her denim tote bag. She inserted the first reel of Volume One NASA Galaxy series, lay back in the booth, and stared at the pictures through the stereoscope; she paused on each one, imagining what it would be like to touch the stars or glide through the Milky Way. She looked at all three reels and daydreamed until she felt rested enough and found other chores to do, like sweeping out cobwebs from the corners and discarding expired condiments. A few hours later, as she dusted the jukebox, a customer came, a young brunette woman in a navy pea coat who only wanted hot chocolate and a slice of chess pie. She was standoffish and rude, and talked a long time on the pay phone near the restroom, yelling at some unfortunate person, Mercedes was glad when she left, taking her attitude and anger with her. An hour later a middle-aged couple drifted in, smelling of mint and holly, bundled in tweed coats, only ordering coffee and black bottom pumpkin pie; they bickered over a road map spread out on the table before them. They were lost and got off at the wrong exit, but Mercedes didn't offer them any help because she was horrible with directions and maps confused her.

Then a regular customer entered the diner; it was Shaun, a college student, who came to Spoony's weekly usually getting hot tea and dessert. He was a tall beanpole with brown hair in a layered page boy haircut; he wore his usual faded Levi jeans, a puffy ski jacket with a Chevron design in orange, black and red, and a blue canvas backpack slung over his shoulder. He sat at the counter and ordered hot tea and mince pie. Quinn nicknamed him Puppy Dog because of his big, brown eyes, that gave him a look of choirboy innocence. As Mercedes placed three small pies on his plate, golden-crusted and dusted with sugar, Shaun asked her if she ever heard of the secret CIA Heart Attack gun.

"They have a dart gun that could shoot poison in your heart, kill you, and it won't show up in the autopsy. How fucked up is that?" He said, waiting for her reaction.

Mercedes poured his tea; steam rose from the cup; then she put two lemon wedges on the saucer the way he liked it.

"That sounds like some Mission Impossible shit."

"Yeah, and as Americans, we have a right to know what our government is doing. I keep my ears and eyes open. You think Nixon fooled me? No way, and hey I got a HAM radio too, picking up intel."

"Intel on what?"

"Everything."

"Lay off the acid."

"I don't even touch that stuff."

"Well, you've been touching something."

Shaun waved his hand in the air as if she were the one that couldn't see the light.

"Open your eyes, Mercedes."

"They are open."

He picked up a pie and bit into it.

"Ah, now see you think they're open but they're not. We're in an alternate reality."

"Says who?"

"The universe."

"Oh, Shaun."

"This pie is good."

"I'll wrap the rest of them up for you to take home."

"You don't have to do that."

She squeezed his hand.

"I want to. It's Christmas."

"Thank you.

"Besides not many people are asking for mince pie. We have over a dozen in the kitchen".

He smiled.

"Yeah, I guess it's more of a British thing. Is Quinn coming in today?"

"No, it's just me holding down the fort. Remember, she's a married woman." She said, teasing him."

"I don't like Quinn like that," Shaun said, looking down at the counter and blushing.

"Like hell you don't."

"No, I really don't."

"Humph, if you say so," she said, "Are you seeing your Mom today?"

Shaun' eyes dimmed.

"No, her new boyfriend is a dick."

"She'll dump him eventually."

"I hope so, " he said and unzipped his backpack, taking out a small package wrapped in silver paper, he handed it to her, "I got something for you."

"You didn't have to get me anything."

"I know. Go on, open it."

Mercedes opened the gift: it was the latest NASA reels -Volume 2 of the Galaxy Series for her View-Master. She went leaned over and hugged him.

"Thank you, Shaun, that's so thoughtful of you."

"I knew you would like it."

The door jingled and a man with long, unkempt blonde hair, a camera around his neck, and a guitar slung over his shoulder along with a small, green duffel bag, sauntered into the diner. He wore a lined denim jacket with various patches: a yellow smiley face, an American flag, Flash Gordon, and the one that made her chuckle under her breath, was the round, green patch that said Black is Beautiful in big, black capital letters. It was too much. He had sideburns and intense green eyes, and when he looked at Mercedes, she found it hard to stare back, so she began wiping down the Formica teal counter.

"May I help you?"

"Coffee please," he said sitting down to the counter next to the Shaun who stared at him like he crashed the party as he finished his second mince pie; the man acknowledged him with a nod.

"Anything else?" Mercedes said.

"That's all for now."

"One coffee, coming up. Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, please."

She poured the coffee and slid it over to him along with packets of sugar and little containers of cream.

"Are the refills free?" The man said.

"Yes."

"Thanks."

While he stirred cream, sugar and a dash of salt into his coffee, Mercedes refilled the salt-and-pepper shakers, as Shaun chatted with her about government secrets, outer space, and the new Gene Wilder movie "The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother" which he saw three times already. She saw the blond man watching them from the corner of her eye, and while that would usually be unnerving to her, she wasn't bothered by it.

"I'm going to see it again tonight," Shaun said.

"The theaters are open?" Mercedes said.

"Yeah."

"I'm surprised. Are you going with friends?"

"Yeah, well, I was thinking maybe – "

"Excuse me," the husband of the middle-aged couple said from the nearby booth, "Do you know how far Lima Heights is from here?"

"Frank," his wife said with a sigh, "It's not Lima Heights. We're going to East River."

"Fine, Mildred. Ok, do you know how far East River is?"

"It's about twenty minutes from here," Shaun said.

"Listen, son, do you think you could help us? We can't make heads or tails of this," Frank said gesturing toward the roadmap on the table.

"Sure."

"Bless you," Gladys said.

Shaun went to their booth and began helping them with a route to East River. Not too long after that, the couple left and gave Mercedes a generous ten dollar tip.

"Merry Christmas," they said as they walked out the door into the frigid cold weather.

"Thank you, Merry Christmas!" Mercedes said and put the tip in her pocket.

"You deserved that," Shaun said, smiling at her.

"Thank you. I think so too."

"Well, I'd better be heading back to the dorm. I got some stuff to do."

Mercedes hugged him.

"Merry Christmas, and if I don't see you, have a Happy New Year."

When she broke the embrace, Shaun looked at her a moment with an expression she couldn't decipher. It was so brief that she didn't have time to analyze it.

"See you around," he said and quickly walked out.

The blond man stayed the rest of the evening, drinking coffee and reading a black and white composition book. She didn't engage him in any small talk because he was so engrossed in whatever he was reading, but his presence was soothing for some reason, like a silent friend. Now it was almost ten o'clock at night, and she wanted to close up, she lit a cigarette, took a drag and let the ashes fall into a cracked saucer on the counter. "Silent Night" by the Temptations played on the old jukebox. She hummed along and watched the portable black and white TV set she brought from home. It sat on the counter and kept her company when business was slow. The nightly news anchors droned on about quadrupling oil prices, Muammar el-Qaddafi, Shah Mohammed Raza Pahlavi, and President Ford. The anchors urged everyone to stay off the roads because of the season's worst snowstorm, before switching to a story about a man dressed as Santa Claus found dead behind the Lucky Irish bowling alley on 14th street.

Mercedes turned off the little TV, looked at her lone customer, sitting at the opposite end of the long counter and sighed; she hated to throw him out, but it was late, her feet ached, and it was Christmas Eve. Though she had nothing to go home to except her tabby cat Cuddles, and she wasn't even sure if the cat liked her or not, as temperamental as she could be: hissing one minute and purring the next, and her cold, empty apartment had no Christmas tree or decorations.

Mercedes watched the heavy snowfall and worried the buses would stop running due to the inclement weather. She could take a cab, though the drivers in Lima, were cowards when it came to snow.

"Hey," she said, as she put out her cigarette in the saucer, "I gotta close up."

The man looked at her.

"Oh."

"Yeah so…"

He shut his composition book.

"Did you need any help?"

"Help?"

"With closing up."

Mercedes looked around the diner. She already wiped down the booths and mopped the floor. All the dishes were washed; she only had to count the money.

"No, I just need to lock up."

Then the phone rang.

"Excuse me," she said and went to the kitchen to answer it.

"Hello."

"Hey, Mercedes, it's Clovis. The buses stopped running. Roads are bad."

"I just heard it on the news."

"Yeah, girl, you better take a cab."

"Thanks for calling."

"You're welcome, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

She hung up and called the only two cab companies in Lima. Both were closed for the night. She walked back out to the dining area. The man looked at her, his face worried.

"Are you ok?"

"Buses and cabs aren't running."

"It's bad out there. How far do you live from here?"

"About five miles."

"That's a bit of a walk."

"I can't walk in this weather."

"I'd offer you a ride, but I hitchhiked."

"That's dangerous."

"I've been through worse."

Mercedes walked to the window and stared out into the snowy night.

"I was an idiot for not leaving sooner."

"What are you going to do?"

"What do you think? I'm stuck here."

"There aren't any hotels?"

"Not close by."

"Well, if you don't mind company, I'd like to stay too. I have nowhere to go."

"Oh, sure, you can stay," she said, looking at him, unsure if she was making the right decision.

He smiled, holding out his hand.

"I'm Sam."

She shook his callused hand, then pointed to her nametag:

"Mercedes."

"Yeah, I know."

She stood there awkwardly and touched her Afro.

"Well, uh, did you want anything to eat?"

"I don't have any – "

"Don't worry; it's on the house. Besides you can't live on coffee."

"For now that's all I can afford."

"It's ok. Consider this a Christmas gift."

He stared at her, his eyes watered.

"Thank you. That means a lot. But your feet hurt," he said nodding down at her scuffed white shoes.

"How did you know?"

"You're walking funny."

Mercedes sat down in the vinyl jade green booth.

"So they are. Give me a few minutes to rest."

"I'll cook us something if that's alright."

Mercedes looked up at him, trying to figure out if he was crazy, but then she didn't care because she was tired and alone and stranded in a God-forsaken diner.

"Knock yourself out."

"What do you want?"

"Surprise me."

"Alright," he said, walking away.

"Wait."

He stopped and turned around.

"What?"

"Could you bring me that pack of cigarettes and that saucer?"

He brought her the cigarettes and saucer and placed them in front of her. She took her lighter out of her pocket and lit one.

"Thank you; I could use a drink," she said, blowing smoke into the air.

"Do you want me to bring you anything from the kitchen?"

"Yeah, Spoony keeps a stash of liquor in the pantry to calm his nerves."

"Who's Spoony?"

"He owns this place," she said closing her eyes, "I think there's a bottle of Johnnie Walker back there."

"I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. Though he was scruffy and had a free love vibe, she thought he was handsome, in an understated way. Then she wondered what he thought of her.

A few minutes later he returned with the whiskey and a tumbler and went back to the kitchen and began cooking supper. Mercedes poured herself some whiskey and took a sip, getting that warm, toasty feeling she craved. "Where Do the Lonely Go on Christmas" by the Emotions began playing on the jukebox. The song made her feel sadder than she's felt in a long time. It was snowing so hard she couldn't see much outside, except a few bright streetlights. She opened her tote bag and retrieved her small, oval-shaped metal pillbox with a picture of a 1920's flapper on the front with rosy cheeks and big eyes, sitting on a porch drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola. Mercedes opened it up and looked at the ocean blue cyanide gel capsule inside the pillbox, taking it out, she held it in the palm of her baby-soft hand for a few seconds before putting it away. She finished her glass of whiskey and ground out her cigarette. The song ended on the jukebox and there was silence.

The strong aroma of garlic, onions and tomato sauce filled the diner; whatever Sam was cooking made her mouth water. The last man to prepare a meal for her was her ex-boyfriend Tyrone and the less she thought about him, the better; the only thing he was good at making was Spanish rice, cornbread, and chicken wings and that got old after awhile. She shifted about in the booth, adjusting her tight uniform. Her Rubenesque body was too large for the dress.

When she was a kid, her mother usually went to the Chubbies section of the store for her clothes, but that was a faraway memory, just like seeing the camera flash cube burst in a blast of light, as she stood in front of the fireplace in her little green velvet dress with a big white bow, and her father saying he loved her as he took her picture, her face was all smiles and her hair pressed and shiny with Blue Magic pomade. Mercedes recalled him showing her the stars in their backyard, lying next to the sweet rosebushes, telling her she could fly if she wanted to; she closed her eyes with every intention of only resting for a few moments, but she fell asleep, and when she woke up she felt Sam shake her arm.

"Mercedes?"

She opened her eyes, confused at first but then remembering where she was.

"Hmm, yes?"

"Everything is ready."

She looked down at the table and saw two plates heaped with spaghetti and thick meat sauce, and a platter of white toast.

"You didn't have garlic bread," he said sitting across from her.

"That's fine. Dinner looks great."

"You were dreaming."

"Yes I was," she said, picking up the fork, and winding pasta around it, "It's funny how you can't remember your dreams but remember the feeling of them. Thanks again for cooking."

"It's the least I could do. You let me stay."

"I couldn't throw you out in the street."

"Trust me; it's happened before."

They stared at each other for a moment and began eating. The wind howled outside.

"I'll pay you back for all of this," Sam said, piling the spaghetti onto a piece of toast, "I can send you the money."

"I told you it was a gift, so what brings you to Lima?"

"This is as far as my ride would go."

"Where are you off to next?"

"I don't know."

Mercedes nodded and continued eating. Sam wolfed down his spaghetti, and she wondered when was the last time he ate. As he scooped up the last bit of noodles and sauce on his plate, he said:

"I'm getting seconds. You want anything?"

"No, but thanks for asking."

He nodded and left. Mercedes finished her spaghetti, letting out a crude belch, thankful Sam wasn't around to hear it. Soon he was back at their table, with another plate of spaghetti and meat sauce.

"You've got an appetite," she said.

"I love pasta."

"I can see that."

"It doesn't cook like this where I'm from."

Mercedes tilted her head, a bit confused.

"What do you mean?"

He blushed and shrugged, and took a bite of his food.

"Uh, nothing."

Mercedes thought that was odd, but didn't dwell on it. She poured herself another glass of whiskey. He pointed to the bottle, Johnnie Walker.

"Why do you drink that?"

"Are you religious or something?"

"No, I was just wondering."

"Why does anybody drink?"

"I don't know. Does it taste good?"

"I guess. So you've never had whiskey?"

"No."

"Any alcohol at all?"

"No."

"How old are you?"

He thought for a moment as if he couldn't remember, then he said:

"I'm 24."

"Are you sure?" Mercedes said, raising her eyebrows.

Sam laughed.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said and took a drink of water. He pointed to her cigarettes.

"I wonder about those too."

"Where are you from?"

He grew quiet and didn't say anything for such a long time that Mercedes said:

"Hey, forget it. I don't need to know. I'm sorry for prying."

Sam said nothing and ate his spaghetti. Mercedes got up from the booth and went to the jukebox. She chose Elvis Presley's "Blue Christmas" and dropped in a quarter and went back to the booth. Sam bobbed his head to the song.

"I like this," he said.

"Even though it's sad, I like it," Mercedes said.

"Are you always sad?"

"Who said I was –" She stopped talking because someone banged on the locked door.

"Help me!" A man screamed.

Mercedes got up and went to the door, raising the blinds she saw a tall gray-haired man, bleeding and clutching his stomach.

"Please help me!"

She was about to open the door when Sam grabbed her arm.

"Don't open it."

"Sam, he's hurt."

"Don't do it."

"Why, what's wrong with you?"

"Trust me."

The man continued screaming, his agony was unbearable; and she had to end it.

"Let go of me," she said, trying to get free from his grasp, but he was too powerful for her.

"I said no."

"Let me in, please" the man yelled, beating his fists against the glass; he sounded as if someone were stabbing a knife into his flesh.

"Go to the storeroom," Sam said, his grip tightening, "And lock the door."

The man slammed his fists against the door, and the glass began cracking, and an aquamarine light shined from his hands.

"Go!" Sam said, shoving her away from the door.

"What – what's happening I – "

"Just go!"

The man continued beating the door; the light grew brighter, his eyes glowed blue, and the blood faded away and changed to red crystals, sticking to his skin, which was no longer pale human flesh: it was brilliant, glowing light and was bright blue. The glass shattered and the humanoid creature grabbed Sam, shoving him to the floor.

Mercedes wanted to run but she couldn't: panic-stricken, she stood there, clinging to the booth post.

"You disobeyed," the creature said to Sam, who struggled to stand and slowly got up from the floor now covered with shards of shining glass, a fierce gust of wind blew into the diner.

The creature grabbed Sam, shoving him back against the counter, staring into his eyes; "Did you think you could continue?"

Sam pushed the creature off of him, and it stumbled back but regained its balance.

"I haven't disobeyed."

"You need to return."

"Ares, my decision is mine alone."

"Brother, you remember my name."

"Yes," Sam said as his skin became the same glowing blue shade as Ares.

"I thought you've forgotten with your human side taking over."

"Get out!"

"Will she tell?" Ares said, pointing to Mercedes, who trembled, and clung to the post; tears ran down her cheeks.

"Leave her alone."

Ares stared at Mercedes. Despite his violent temper and arrogance, she thought he was beautiful.

"Go," Sam said to him.

"You've been gone long enough. It's time to come back," Ares said, facing him once again.

"I'll decide when to return," Sam said.

Ares shoved him.

"You selfish hybrid! You're unworthy to be the crystal keeper."

Sam punched him, and he fell backward, landing on the floor, atop the broken glass.

"I'm letting you off easy, but try me again and I'll hold nothing back," he said gazing down at his brother, "You're not worthy to touch it."

"You don't deserve its power. But since this is futile, I'll leave. But others will continue to come," Ares said as he stood up, shaking the glass from his skin.

"I know," Sam said, "Did you think you could trick me?"

"Of course," he said, looking over at Mercedes, "At least I deceived the girl."

Mercedes felt him inside her head: it was warm and pleasant like swimming in the ocean with the sun on your back or feeling the caress of a lover, beneath the covers.

Then coldness seeped beneath the warmth, an ugly emotion she wanted to avoid, she felt ice in her veins, and her breathing quickened.

"Stop it," Sam said, stepping in front of Mercedes, blocking her from his sight.

"She's receptive," Ares said, "Du mus sas ossocrad su sra serr. Good-bye, Asudu."

He walked through the broken glass door into the cold winter night and disappeared. Sam raised his hands, and the glass floated from the floor. The pieces formed together to make the door and once it was complete; he inserted it into the frame, and everything looked as it once was. Mercedes sat down in the booth, covering her face with her hands. She cried and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm down. Sam sat down beside her. She shoved him away.

"What the fuck just happened? What are you? What was he?"

"I'm only part human."

"What's the other part?"

"I'm a Zyfonian."

Mercedes felt ill and ran to the bathroom and into one of the stalls, throwing up into the toilet. She knew it was her fear that made her sick. Sam came into the bathroom a few moments later.

"Mercedes?"

"I don't know what you are or why you're here and I don't care. I won't tell anyone about anything I saw. Just leave. Please."

"I can't."

"Take all the money in the register. And you can have all my tips."

"Mercedes, hear me out."

She flushed the toilet, opening the stall.

"Please leave me out of this. I don't even understand what I just saw. I don't need to know anything else. Just go!"

"I have to tell you something."

She went to the sink and washed her hands.

"You look human now."

"Like I said, I'm only part Zyfonian."

"I have to sit down."

They walked out of the bathroom back out to the dining area. Mercedes sat down in the booth.

"Are you cold?"

"Yes."

Sam stretched out his arms and Mercedes instantly became warm; she sighed in relief, it felt as if he wrapped an invisible blanket around her body.

"I'm so tired."

"Go to sleep."

"What did you do?"

Sam waved his hands, and the lights went out, but the Christmas lights stayed on in the window and so did the ones on the tree.

"You don't like complete darkness," he said.

"How did you – "

"Shh, go to sleep."

"I can't sleep, Sam, or is it that other name Ares called you?"

"Asudu is my Zyfonian name."

Mercedes closed her eyes.

Sam sat in the opposite side of the booth.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"Give me your hand."

"Why?"

"You have so many questions, and this is the best way to give you answers."

"I don't understand."

"You will once we're holding hands. I have to show you my story."

"You're not making sense."

"I won't hurt you. I promise."

Mercedes had no choice but to trust him. Only an hour before, a glowing blue man with ruby red blood crystals, reached inside her for a brief moment and she stood in his brilliant light. And now Sam was an alien that could warm her skin, fix glass doors, and turn off lights with what appeared to be magic. She was a lonely waitress, in a diner in the most boring town in America, working on Christmas Eve, how could any of this happen?

"Please, Mercedes…"

She took a deep breath and reached across the table, placing her hands in his.

"Alright."

"Close your eyes."

When she closed her eyes, Mercedes became afraid; her heart beat fast. Sam squeezed her hands tight.

"Be calm."

"I can't help it."

"It's ok," he said, and his voice sounded far away.

Mercedes felt herself drifting as if she were going through a tunnel.

"Open your eyes," Sam said.

They were no longer in the diner but on a dream-like, celestial planet with six full white moons and mountainous blue terrain. It was nighttime, and a white substance resembling snow sparkled on the ground. A group of Zyfonians sat in a crystal glass room around a floating glass table. There were about a dozen of them, both male and female, their blue skin glowed, and their hair was white but shimmered in a rainbow of colors.

Mercedes looked at Sam.

"Can they see us?" she whispered.

"No."

"Where am I?"

"Zyfonia."

Mercedes turned her attention to the scene happening before them. A male Zyfonian, who looked like he was in charge, spoke first:

"Humans need our help. Earth's resources will be depleted."

"What's the purpose of our helping humans? It appears to be burdensome." Another one asked, he sat across from the man who appeared to be the leader.

"We can teach them advanced conflict resolution and resource preservation, and study their culture, habits, art, music. Then we will take over Earth and rule them. With another planet, our military will be more powerful. Humans could never survive without our leadership. And we would have access to gold, silver, and other precious metals. We're saving them from destruction."

"What if the humans don't want to be ruled?"

"They will once they see the benefit. We'll wear skin shields that will make us look human, and reveal our true selves eventually, but we will use discernment and figure out when the time is right. We'll take the crystal from the Sacred Tower for guidance. Only those worthy can touch it to gain wisdom. It will have different keepers to spread the knowledge."

Then Mercedes and Sam were on Earth again where the Zyfonians lived and wore skin shields, intermingling with humans, slowly teaching them about how to avoid destruction of Earth and humanity. It began in ancient times with papyrus scrolls, stone tablets and cave paintings and humans believed the stars guided them and God spoke through nature. When the Zyfonians revealed their true selves to select humans, some revered them as Gods and built temples in their honor out of marble and gold, while others grew frightened and wanted to kill them, believing they were demons; though the Zyfonians were too strong to destroy and conquer. Each century the crystal was possessed by a different Zyfonian crystal keeper, and as the years passed by, many of the aliens fell in love with humans and mated with them creating hybrids who were born with powers; some used their power for nefarious purposes creating dictatorships while others did good work.

During their time on Earth, the Zyfonians stopped wars; however they soon realized that ceasing one war, only created others. The more humans evolved and advanced from the Zyfonians' teaching, the more division it caused across Earth. Death, greed, and war consumed humanity. The Zyfonians grew disillusioned with creating a better human species and aborted the mission getting their guidance from the crystal. Some stayed behind and lived on Earth because they had families with humans; and for the sake of survival, they kept on their skin shields in public, taking them off only at home; while others returned to Zyfonia. Some attempted to steal the crystal, not believing it told them to abort the mission; but when they touched it, they crystal scorched their hands, and they lost their eyes.

The Zyfonians became myths as the government said aliens never existed; the temples remained and were considered the beliefs of ancient, lost civilizations. The charismatic aliens became folktales and campfire stories. Mercedes and Sam moved through the span of time re-living the history as it unfolded, from BC to the 1950's and suddenly they were in a small, yellow kitchen with shiny white-tiled floors.

A couple argued by the sink filled with dirty dishes and soapy water. The woman had blond hair, and was slender; she wore a bathrobe, her feet were bare. Dressed in a dark suit and striped tie, the man was taller than the woman. She leaned against the sink, facing him. A little boy sat on the kitchen floor in plaid pajamas, playing with blocks, he was about four years old, with shiny blond hair like the woman and bluish-tinted skin. As he stacked the blocks, he looked up at the man and woman, his eyes fearful while he listened to the argument.

"We can make this work," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want him to be ashamed of who he is," she said, "I know you mean well but –"

"We'll teach him how to be proud."

"No we can't, not when I hide."

She pushed the man aside and tugged at her pale skin which came off like a mask, and underneath was her natural glowing blue skin, and her hair was no longer blonde, but white, and it shimmered like a prism. She was breathtaking.

He hugged her.

"Your skin shield protects you."

"It was different before the baby."

"He's part human."

"I want him to live in both worlds."

The little boy closed his eyes, and the blocks floated around him, and he made them fly over to his parents, tapping them both on the head.

"Asudu, stop that," she said.

"His name is Sam. Don't confuse him," he said.

Sam looked at his parents and began to cry.

His mother picked him up.

"There, there, it's ok," she said, soothing him, and then she said to the father: "He's picking up on our energy."

"Yes, I know."

"I can't do this anymore," she said.

He sighed.

"I understand the need for him to know who he is. I do not deny that. "But we agreed to live on Earth."

Sam reached for his father who took the boy from her arms.

"It's ok, son."

"I know what we agreed to, and I've changed my mind. I can't live here anymore. I thought I could do it. So much has changed."

"Like what?"

"I used to be ok playing a certain role, knowing what lines I had to confine myself in and it felt safe, and I was happy, but now the lines feel like bars; and we have a child, and I never want him to deny who he is. I want to go back."

"But going back to Zyfonia, is only giving a part of who he is; he's only known Earth. This is his home."

"I want him to come with me," she said, "I want you to come too. Your health won't be affected."

"But my lungs."

"The air is different now."

"Do you want me to die?"

"No, I don't. I've been communicating with home, and I'm told the atmosphere has changed. You could breathe on your own.

"I almost died before."

"You'll survive this time. I promise. I wouldn't be asking to live on Zyfonia if it put your life in danger. I love you. I want all of us to stay together as a family. You even said yourself that my planet is beautiful. I don't feel like I can breathe on Earth anymore; too many conflicts and sorrow."

"Zyfonia isn't perfect."

"I'm not saying it is."

"I love you."

She hung her head.

"I know. I thought the love would be enough, but it's not. And I'm sorry.

"Families like ours survive all the time. I don't know if I could live there permanently. Earth is home."

"I'm sorry," she whispered tears filled her eyes.

She kissed his cheek and walked away. Sam clung to his father as they watched his mother leave the kitchen in all her majestic beauty. The boy shook his head, and thrust his arms forward, creating a force that willed his mother back to him.

"Musrar, cuka bocd," he said.

She almost scolded him for his behavior, but upon seeing his sad face, she said:

"Asudu, I ruqa aeui."

His father put his arms around them both, and they hugged each other in a fierce embrace and moments later, a blast of white light shined, and his mother was gone.

Mercedes felt Sam's pain as he cried in his father's arms. Sam grabbed her hand.

"Close your eyes."

She did as he asked and the same drifting in a tunnel feeling came over her and when he told her to open her eyes again, they were in the diner sitting in the booth, but this time side by side and it was daylight. How long had they been gone?

Sam touched her cheek.

"Are you ok?"

"Did you ever see her again?"

"Yes, in fact, after my parents split up, I would spend one year on Zyfonia with my mother and one year on Earth with my father. And he would come to Zyfonia while I was there, but then over time, he couldn't because even though the atmosphere changed and he could breathe easier, he met someone else, and things weren't the same between him and my mother, and then she met somebody and so it was just me traveling between the two planets."

"Wow. How did you adjust?"

"I don't know. I just did. Then my brother Ares was born in Zyfonia and my other brother Scott here on Earth."

"So you have a Zyfonian brother and a human brother."

"I have brothers."

Mercedes could hear the edge in his voice, so she said:

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean – "

"It's ok."

They sat in silence. Mercedes felt overwhelmed. These aliens lived among humans for centuries. It blew her mind.

"So how did you get the crystal?"

"It chose me."

"Chose you?"

"Yes, it finds you, once the previous keeper no longer possesses it; the crystal searches for the next keeper and once it deems you worthy, you receive it. Some Zyfonians don't like that I have it since I'm a hybrid."

"What was that language you were speaking?"

"Zyfon."

"Why weren't they speaking Zyfon at the meeting?"

"I translated it for you in my memory. Sorry for the last part, I couldn't make the switch to English."

Mercedes understood what he meant. His parents' separation still hurt him.

"What happened to the other hybrids?"

"I believe most of them are dead. I was one of the last ones born. Not a lot of Zyfonians live on Earth anymore they went home."

"I see."

Sam placed his hand over hers.

"I need to tell you something."

"Am I going inside your head again?"

"No," he said, a tiny smile on his full lips, "And you weren't in my head."

"It felt like it."

"There's going to be an intergalactic war and - ."

Suddenly the phone rang in the kitchen. Sam looked at her, startled.

"Why would someone be calling the diner on Christmas morning. It's closed."

"I don't know."

"Don't answer it."

Mercedes decided to listen to him in light of what happened with Ares the previous night. The phone continued ringing. Sam got up from the booth.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"Take my hand."

"Why?"

"I can't explain now. You'll have to trust me again."

Mercedes got up and held his hand. Suddenly there was a tremendous rumble, the diner floor opened up, and they fell into a hole and were inside a giant tunnel made of blue ice. Sam held her tight as they continued falling. It was like a dream or nightmare; she couldn't decide. Mercedes wanted to scream, but couldn't, the blue ice walls were like gas stove light flames. When they finally stopped falling, they landed in the backyard of her childhood home; and it was a summer night. The air was warm and humid, and the rose bushes were in full bloom; the stars shined in the black sky; appearing so close that she felt as if she could touch them, yet their brilliance felt artificial. The smell of freshly cut grass and reminded her of field day, family picnics in the park, and carnivals. Lying in the yard, with Sam's arms around her, she trembled as she tried to catch her breath. Everything was vivid and serene, to the point of being unreal. It was like being inside a painting with all the edges slightly blurred.

"Why are we here?"

"Do you remember it?"

"Yes, I know where I am. But we can't be here because – "

"Don't worry. It's a safe place."

She listened to the crickets chirp and smelled the sweet roses.

"But it doesn't exist anymore," she said, looking at the brick house, a soft yellow light shined in the window, the curtains were open, and the TV was on in the living room, "Everything is gone."

"It exists in your memories."

"How do you even know my memories? What is this place? Is it real?"

"I can read people while they sleep."

Mercedes sat up. She didn't like him poking into her most vulnerable state, the place where her childhood home remained on Maple street, and it was always summer. He stroked her arm.

"I'm sorry for intruding."

"What is this place?"

"It's where everything you conceive in your dreams and memories lives."

"Let's go into the house," Sam said, helping her off the ground.

Fireflies danced around them. Mercedes looked up at the sky and saw Orion; then she heard a dog bark and a little black poodle ran over to her.

"Patsy," she said, picking up the dog and began to cry as she hugged her childhood pet. She smelled like eucalyptus pet shampoo, and her brown leather color with a tiny gold bell looked new. Patsy licked her face. Her dog looked like she could be on a calendar featuring cute pets. Was Patsy always so well groomed? Sam guided her into the house.

"I know you're overwhelmed, but it's the only hiding place I could think of."

Upon entering, Mercedes smelled the strong familiar scent of Pine-Sol, her mother used it to clean everything. Plastic covered the white leather couch with short wooden legs. The green glass coffee table had a partially completed puzzle of the solar system on it along with an empty blue mug and a pair of reading glasses. The hardwood floors were waxed and shiny. The blue ceramic lamps on the end tables provided soft, yellowish light; A commercial for Kool cigarettes played on the television, the gold starburst clock hanging above the fireplace ticked off the minutes; it was 7:30 pm. Family photos hang on the brown paneled walls. Mercedes sat on the couch, and the plastic stuck on the back of her thighs as she remembered. Patsy cuddled up on her lap. Sam sat down beside her. Mercedes looked around the room, taking it all in; it felt real and unreal all at once.

"I know this is my dream or memory or whatever but why is it a little –

"A little too perfect?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's nostalgia."

"It's nice here."

Footsteps were heard coming down the stairs. Then Mr. Jones' voice called out:

"Mercy!"

"Sam, what's happening? My father is - "

"But so is Patsy."

"I'm scared. Is Dad a ghost?"

Before Sam could respond, Mr. Jones came into the living room, dressed in Bermuda shorts and a short-sleeved yellow shirt.

"There you are, pumpkin, ready to see the stars? Maybe we can see the Pleiades. Then I'll take you to Walgreens for an egg cream. You're wearing your new hair ribbon"

Mr. Jones had the same, gentle face and alto voice she remembered. She handed Patsy to Sam and went to her father, hugging him inhaling the woodsy, citrus scent of his English Leather cologne.

"Dad, I've missed you so much. I love you."

But her father didn't hug her back, and his arms remained at their sides as he said:

"There you are, pumpkin, ready to see the stars? Maybe we can see the Pleiades. Then I'll take you to Walgreens for an egg cream. You're wearing your new hair ribbon"

Mercedes was confused. Why did her father repeat himself? Why wasn't he hugging her? She looked at Sam.

"What's going on? Why did he repeat what he just said? Can he see you?"

"This is your memory of him. Not an interaction. He can't see me."

Her father stood there looking at her smiling. The TV repeated the Kool cigarette commercial, and the jazzy piano jingle was cheerful and upbeat:

"Come up to the Kool taste. Taste extra coolness every time you smoke."

"There you are, pumpkin, ready to see the stars? Maybe we can see the Pleiades. Then I'll take you to Walgreens for an egg cream. You're wearing your new hair ribbon"

Mercedes got up and went to the mirror hanging on the wall near the door. She looked into it, and she was nine years old and wore a red Mickey Mouse t-shirt. And her hair wasn't in an Afro; it was in a single French braid with a red satin ribbon tied at the end.

"Sam, am I a little girl?"

"No."

"What do you see?"

"I see you."

"But this mirror – " she gazed into it and then understood that since this was her memory, she would be nine years old. The summer evening they saw the Pleiades was the happiest time of her life, but she didn't have time to re-live it. Sam brought her here to protect her. By instinct, she closed her eyes and whispered.

"I'll come back, Dad."

Mercedes turned around, and her father was gone. She sat down on the couch and Patsy jumped into her lap.

"Tell me about the war."

Sam leaned back on the couch.

"In one week, Earth could be destroyed."

* * *

 **END NOTES:** Thank you for reading and reviewing my story!

Here are the translations for the Zyfon language – Ares: Du mus sas ossocrad su sra serr - Do not get attached to the girl.

Sam's Mother: Asudu, I ruqa aeui: Asudu, I love you.

Sam: Musrar, cuka bocd – Mother, come back.


	2. Chapter 2

**SUMMARY:** Sam and Mercedes' adventure further unfolds and Shaun is along for the ride.

 **RATING:** Teen

 **WARNING:** Cursing, mildly sexual situations, nudity

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2**

After Sam gave her the news of the impending war on Earth, he wished Mercedes wasn't involved, but maybe it was best that at least someone knew the planet's fate. But the fear on her sweet, gentle face broke his heart. His stepfather Khrelan and his brother Ares often said his human side weakened him. Maybe it was this weakness that led him to walk into Spoony's Diner. He held her hand, sensing her need for touch, he felt her heartbeat accelerate, and her cortisol levels increase. He looked inside her chest and saw the muscular organ pumping rapidly; he recalled the pictures of Jesus with his heart on the outside that his stepmother Mary Jo hung on their living room wall next to her photos of UFOs.

"Breathe," he said.

"I am breathing."

"No, breathe with me."

He inhaled and exhaled, and soon they were in sync; her heartbeat returned to normal, and her cortisol levels decreased.

"Better?"

"You were staring at my boobs."

Sam laughed.

"I know it seems like it, but that wasn't what I was doing I – "

"Tell me about the war," she said, cutting him off, "We can talk about my breasts later."

Sam paused thinking of the best way to explain it all.

"Where's your bag?"

"I think I left it in the yard."

"I'll be right back."

He went outside and retrieved her bag from the lawn; the fireflies hovered about with their yellow and green lights flicking on an off in the darkness. He picked up her denim bag and watched the bioluminescent bugs, and was transported to his childhood, with his brother Scott collecting them in jars in the field behind their house. Then he saw his little brother standing before him in Mercedes' yard, holding a mason jar, his brown hair mussed, dirt was on his white Lost in Space t-shirt.

"I caught more than you," Scott said.

Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head and the image vanished. His memory infiltrated Mercedes' memory space; he supposed it was a glitch in the system or maybe it was a matter of his longing because he missed Scott. He went back into the house.

Mercedes cuddled her dog Patsy on her lap and looked up at him.

"Why did you want my bag?"

Sam opened it up and took out her View-Master.

"We need this."

"You want to look at my View-Master?" She said.

"It's the best way to show you what's happening since you're so attached to it."

"So no traveling inside your brain?"

"Here, look inside."

"But there's no reel."

"It doesn't matter."

Mercedes obliged.

"Now what?"

"Wait."

Sam waved his hand in front of the lens.

"Pull the lever," Sam said.

Mercedes nodded.

"Ok."

 **OOO**

She pulled the lever and looked into her View-Master, then she was thrust into another world with Sam beside her; suddenly they were inside the View-Master reel, it was like they stood in the middle of a colorful transparent painting, but Mercedes recognized that it was a slide. She smelled plastic and cardboard and recalled holding the View-Master reels up to the light and inhaling their unique scent and wanting to be inside the pictures. She stared at the slide surrounding them as Sam slipped his hand into hers.

"This was the best way I thought."

Mercedes didn't know how to respond, so she remained silent and observed the first slide of the space war story.

 _Slide 1:_

 _A strange planet resembling a bright gold ball was inhabited by avian humanoid aliens with elongated bodies, with small white wings on their heads and large wings on their backs, they were golden, like mythical fairytale creatures. Their eyes were big, bright green and hypnotizing. They were called the Aekehmeans and were exemplary warriors and charismatic, and their home planet was Aekehmea._

"They're beautiful," Mercedes said, feeling a calm peace come over her, thinking how they somehow looked familiar, "How do we get to the next slide?

"Pull the lever."

"What lever?"

"In front of you."

She looked down and saw a big, plastic blue lever; and wasn't sure how she missed it. She pulled it down and heard that familiar click as it switched to the next slide.

 _Slide 2: The Aekehmeans flew about space and like giant angels spreading light across the universe, their enormous wings almost touched the stars, and emerald green eyes sparkling like jewels. They soared through the Serenity Nebula, glowing against the magnificent green, blue, and red cloud of dust, brilliant and mesmerizing._

Sam touched her shoulder.

"Is this too much for you?"

"No," she said, pulling the lever and the third slide came into view.

 _Slide 3: Darkness lurked beneath their light, and the Aekehmeans wanted to rule the galaxy and become Gods to all living things. They held a council meeting in their tabernacle made of gold and jewels, seated before the statues of their ancestors and devised a plan._

Mercedes gazed at the slide, examining the scene, watching these fallen angels become enemies. How proud and ostentatious they were sitting in their temple. She gripped the lever for a moment, taking it all in until pressing down once more to continue the story.

 _Slide 4: They invaded and conquered many planets, descending upon them under the guise of peace, bringing their majestic light and hypnotic charm. With a promise of an alliance and offering precious resources such as Aekehmean gold and rare crystals, the alien leaders responded with outstretched arms, sitting on their thrones, awed by the Aekehmeans' power and unusual beauty. They took all of the gifts._

Mercedes struggled to push the lever again; scared of what she would see next because this was real, all of it was real - she exhaled and forced herself to continue. Sam squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm here with you."

Mercedes only nodded and looked at the new slide as it filled the View-Master screen.

 _Slide 5: The other aliens succumbed to the Aekehmeans' will, becoming their subservient followers, and praying to them in Aekehmean tabernacles built by their species and speaking their language._

"You took away my comfort," she said to Sam.

"I thought this would help."

"I don't like what I'm seeing."

"I know it's hard but – "

"No, this is worse than hard, she said, while the scene changed.

 _Slide 6: For the aliens who resisted the Aekehmeans, bloody wars ensued, but the Aekehmeans were rarely defeated. They drank the blood of those they murdered from giant gold cups, making the invaded inhabitants watch. Not even sparing women and children, they annihilated entire species, and if anyone fought back, death was their fate, and the Aekehmeans conquered the planets using them for their purposes._

 _Slide 7: The Aekehmeans now have their sights on Zyfonia, Earth, and Laigog, a cold, desolate planet inhabited by Laigs, large, furry creatures, with ice crystal spikes growing on the tips of their fur; and lifeless blue eyes._

 _Slide 8: Humans fascinated the Aekehmeans. They came to Earth over the years, presenting themselves as angels and spirits, helping people in their darkest moments. Pulling a drowning child from a lake, appearing at gravesides and hospitals as people prayed for their loved ones, and Christmas was their favorite time to give humans hope. Cunning and manipulative, the aliens studied the world religions and became whatever cultural savior fit for each country. They never stayed for very long, since they had other planets they wanted to conquer first, but now the time had come to take over Earth and rule the humans. By gaining their trust as spiritual beings, they believed they could conquer them easily._

"Take me back."

"Mercedes – "

"Get me out of here."

Sam didn't press any further and squeezed her hand. Mercedes closed her eyes, and to her surprise, he pulled her into a hug.

"You're shaking."

"My father."

"What about him?"

"He – " But Mercedes could no longer speak since she and Sam were suddenly speeding through the blue ice tunnel, and then it opened up onto a snowy street in front of burning church on a cold winter evening on Christmas Eve, and engulfed in flames was the Nativity scene. The choir stood on the sidewalk, holding each other and crying with their blue robes blowing in the wind. Firemen tried to keep order, and it was all so familiar, and Mercedes looked over, and her big brother Louis was beside her holding her hand, tall and dark-skinned, dressed in his Army uniform and black overcoat.

"Louis?"

He stared down at her, and she knew he saw a little girl, pigtailed and scared. And not a waitress who spent her days pouring coffee and setting down plates of greasy diner food in front of middle-America customers, who sometimes didn't like her mahogany skin. A lonely woman who endured lewd truckers offering to show her a good time, while slipping her hefty tips for her supposed services and she swallowed her dignity, took the money, and pretended she didn't understand their innuendos because an extra ten bucks kept the lights on. No, her big brother only saw his baby sister with chubby cheeks and tear-filled eyes, wanting him to make it better.

"They'll get him, Jupiter," he said, bending down and kissing her forehead. "We got you out in time."

No one had called her Jupiter since she was a child. It was her nickname because she was born on September 28, 1951, the same day the retrograde moon Jupiter XII was discovered, now they called it Anake, but in her mind, it was her moon at least that's how she saw it. Mercedes looked down at her hands and saw black ash marks on them. Green and red Christmas lights glowed in the window of the post office next to the church. A plastic Santa shined in the darkness next to the flagpole in front of the brick building. The fire truck sirens hurt her ears. And she remembered her father was inside the church.

"Daddy!"

She let go of Louis' hand and was about to run inside, but he held her back along with Sam.

"Jupiter, no."

Mercedes hated this memory. She wanted to get out of it. Her father was trapped.

The big white sign on the front lawn that proudly proclaimed Pilgrim Rest Baptist Church was already halfway-burned, black ashes fluttered about; people stood in the street as the firemen ran inside; the nativity scene on the lawn burned to the ground.

Mercedes saw her father stumbling out of the burning church, a gold light surrounded him, she couldn't look anymore, she breathed in the cold, smoke-filled air, and tears fell from her eyes as she watched her brother Louis rush over to him.

"We have to leave," Mercedes said, "I can't re-live this."

"I didn't mean to – "

"I know, please… I can't be here anymore."

Sam wrapped his arms around her, and soon they were sucked into the blue ice tunnel. They went so fast that Mercedes felt like she was going to vomit. Sam held her tight; he smelled like burning leaves and a scent she couldn't quite place, but it was like musk cologne. The tunnel ended and thrust them into a big, snow-covered field, where they landed on the cold ground. Lying there defenseless, she felt disoriented as if not wholly waking from a dream. Slowly, she and Sam sat up. He rubbed her back.

"Mercedes?"

She saw a few haystacks surrounding them, and they reminded her of the winter bonfires her childhood neighborhood would have, and the kids drank hot cider and ate caramel apples. As a little girl, even in the bitter cold of the winter night, She never liked wearing the homemade knitted hat her mother made for her because it was too big and flopped around on her head. At every bonfire, her mother would scold her for going around bareheaded. As she recalled the odd, random memory, her mother appeared before her in the field, fussing at her.

"Mercedes, don't make me tell you again, put that hat back on your head, you'll catch cold," her mother said, with her hands on her hips, her face illuminated by the bonfire, looking stylish in her black mink coat and matching hat.

"Mama?" Mercedes said.

"Mercedes look, at me, come on, look at me," Sam said, holding her face.

"What's happening to me?"

"It's a side effect, one memory jogged others, and everything is coming out, were you suppressing them?"

"I don't know."

He helped her stand. Mercedes stared at her mother's image as it vanished. She smelled her perfume: Chantilly Lace. Then suddenly she only wanted her family back again, holding her and telling her they loved her. She began to cry.

"They're not coming back."

"It's ok," he said, holding her, "I roqa aeui."

She looked at him.

"What?"

"Sorry, I slipped into Zyfon, I said I have you."

"Well, I wish you didn't have me. I hate feeling this way."

Despite her anger, she didn't pull away from him but sank further into the embrace. Sam pulled back and touched her stomach, she felt something like a quick electric shock and then her nausea vanished.

"Are you a faith healer?"

Sam smiled.

"No, are you sure you're ok?"

"Can you cure cancer?"

"I'd rather not get into this."

"Well, excuse me for asking. You just shocked my nausea away, took me back to my childhood, dragged me through blue tunnels and told me Earth might be destroyed by – " she paused then said, "They helped my father."

"Who did?"

"The Aekehmeans. They look familiar because I remember a picture my father painted of an angel, and he said it saved him from the church fire. His painting looked just like an Aekehmean – all grand and gold, I saw their light that night," Mercedes said, looking up at him, foggy white vapor clouds, rising from her mouth, "When my father was dying he said the angels visited him every day and it gave him hope. But all along he was seeing maniacal aliens? My father had strong faith. He prayed every day, walked the straight and narrow and for what? To be duped by a bunch of gold charlatans, planning to take over Earth and destroy it."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

"You guided us."

"I don't understand."

"Inside the tunnel, something shifted, your will to get away from the church, overrode everything."

"So, you're saying I brought us here? But how could that be? You're the one with the power."

"It was on a subconscious level."

Mercedes shivered, and Sam created an invisible warm shield, surrounding her like a blanket. She looked around, and it dawned on her where she was.

"We're at the Lima Observatory," she said, pointing to the white building in the distance.

"How far do you live from here?" He asked.

Mercedes sat down on a haystack.

"I have to rest."

"Sure," Sam said, sitting down beside her.

"I bring my telescope here sometimes," she said, staring up at the sky, "It makes me forget everything.

They sat in silence. Mercedes thought of how this Christmas was like an acid trip. She thought of Cuddles and hoped she put enough food out for her. Her thoughts ran together from the absurd to the mundane, but her musings finally settled on her father believing those aliens were God's angels, and it broke her heart. But now what would happen to Earth? She wanted to take a shower, crawl into bed, fall asleep and wake up to find this was all a horrible nightmare and not reality. She closed her eyes.

"You're keeping me warm," she said.

"Yes."

"How do you do it?"

"It's hard to explain."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Open your eyes."

She did as he asked and he pointed up at the sky.

"Do you see it?"

"See what?"

"Look closer."

Then it was as if the sky came closer and she could touch the stars, and she saw a glowing blue orb with a misty cloud surrounding it. She immediately knew what it was.

"Zyfonia."

"My home."

"How come I've never seen it before?"

"You have to know where to look."

Mercedes said nothing and stared heavenward. Then she sighed and stood up.

"Let's go."

They walked across the field and Sam raised his hand, a blue light ray shined from his palm, and it melted the deep snow, creating a better path to walk on as they headed toward the main road. His light guided them through the cold darkness.

"It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here," she said, "I'm afraid we'll have to be careful."

"Why?"

"Cars."

"Probably won't be too many this time of night."

"Yeah, she said yawning, "I don't know where the day began or ended." Her shoulder bumped against his as she carefully walked across the dead, wet grass, "We're getting close to the road."

They walked in silence. Mercedes wanted to know everything about Sam, from his hybrid existence to his bizarre, random powers. Could he fly? Well, if he could fly, they wouldn't be walking, would they? But aside from her curiosity, she only wanted to stop the Aekehmeans from invading Earth. The thought was so ridiculous, that if she weren't exhausted and emotionally taxed, she would've laughed at the absurdity. What happened to her other life – one that didn't involve aliens or hybrids or imposter angels validating her father's faith in God.

"Loud thoughts," Sam said.

"Do you know what I'm thinking?"

"I'm not eavesdropping."

At this point, Mercedes didn't even care if he was. He saw too much of her through her memories.

"I want to help you," she said.

"I don't know if you can," he said, placing his hand on the small of her back, guiding her along the blue light path, "You shouldn't know any of this."

"It's too late for that. And I want to help."

"Many will die."

"I never took you as a defeatist."

"I didn't say Earth would lose; it's just… " He fell silent and didn't say anything else. They reached the main road, and if it weren't for the light emitting from his palm, they would be stumbling through the dark.

"It's just what?"

"Nothing."

"You're keeping stuff from me about the Aekehmeans."

"I have to sort some stuff out first."

"People's lives are in danger. We need to warn them. Not wait for you to sort stuff out. I've lost enough people as it is."

"Mercedes, please."

"No, we can't wait."

"I'm sorry, but it's not as easy as it appears."

She didn't respond as they walked alongside the road. No cars passed by for a while, and it was rather peaceful. A deer darted across their path, startled momentarily by Sam's light before continuing into the woods. Then Mercedes said, sighing in exhaustion:

"You can't find a tunnel for us to travel through?" "Or a magic carpet?"

Sam laughed, nudging her with his elbow.

"No, and I don't have a spaceship."

"I wish you did."

As they turned the corner, bright headlights shined in the night, and the driver slowed down, rolling down the window. It was Shaun.

"Mercedes, what are you doing out here? Are you ok?"

When she heard him say her name and the concern and worry in his voice, something in her broke and tears fell from her eyes.

"Yes. Could you, could you give…" and Mercedes couldn't speak for some reason, the words trapped in her throat.

Shaun got out of the car and hugged her.

"It's alright," he said, then glanced at Sam.

"Weren't you at the diner?"

"This is Sam," Mercedes said, wiping her eyes.

Sam reached out to shake Shaun's hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Shaun glared at him and looked at Mercedes.

"What are you doing out here?"

"It's a long story."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Could you give us a ride to my place?"

"Yeah, come on," he said, but he continued staring at Sam with suspicion. Mercedes noticed and squeezed his arm.

"Shaun, it's ok, I swear."

Shaun nodded and unlocked the front and back door of his tangerine Ford Pinto. The car smelled like pine air freshener and weed. When they got in the car, he turned on the radio, the local DJ's raspy voice filled the car:

"The time is now 3:15 AM, and it's cold as a witch's tit outside. Hope you Lima Beans are staying warm. And now, by request, here is Shame, Shame, Shame by Shirley & Company."

As the disco tune played, Mercedes tried to concentrate on the music, the road, anything other than her current ordeal but her efforts proved futile. She couldn't escape her reality.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Shaun said, touching her hand.

"Yes… so why are you out this late?"

"My roommate put his bandana on the door. So I went for a drive."

"Huh?"

"He got lucky."

"Oh."

She closed her eyes, and she fell asleep, she was dreaming about the burning church and golden angels until Shaun's sudden shout awakened her.

"Look!" he said, stopping the car and pointing to the sky where flashes of brilliant blue light in varying shades from turquoise to azure to the royal blue spread across the vast darkness like exploding fireworks, sparkling crystal dust ended with each burst.

He got out of the car, stood in the middle of the road, and gazed up at the light. Mercedes and Sam got out too and stood beside him. It lasted for about two minutes then it stopped.

"Holy fuck," Shaun said, "I can't believe this shit can you?"

Mercedes looked at Sam, whose green eyes now shimmered like rainbows. She was glad Shaun was fixated on the sky because knowing him, he would've freaked out.

"Sam?"

He didn't say anything and gazed heavenward. Mercedes wondered what was happening. Was it a sign from Zyfonia?

"We need to get home," Sam said, looking at her, his eyes changing back to green.

Shaun turned around.

"Home? Really, man? Home? Did you see what happened?"

"Mercedes is tired."

Shaun looked at Mercedes.

"This is incredible."

She nodded to appease him.

"It is."

"I have to see it again."

"It may not happen again."

"I think it will."

Sam and Mercedes stayed quiet as Shaun rambled on.

"It could be aliens, or maybe the Earth is changing and, " he stopped talking and looked up at the sky again, "Maybe… I don't know."

"Shaun – "

"No, listen to me. I know everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I don't care. We're not the only ones in the universe. Look at Betty and Barney Hill. And what about Travis Walton?"

"Hoaxes," Sam said.

"Hoaxes my ass."

Mercedes wondered if it was an alien race other than the Aekehmeans and the Zyfonians that the Hills saw in 1961. She had only been a little girl at the time and wasn't quite sure what to think of it all when she listened her parents discussing it one morning over breakfast. Her mother branded them lunatics, and her father only said that anything was possible. Mercedes stared at their picture in the newspaper article chronicling their alleged abduction. Betty Hill was an unremarkable looking, pale woman with short brown hair, dark eyes, and a prominent nose. She sat next to her more attractive husband who was black, with close cut hair and large eyes; both were seated on a floral print couch, holding up a New Hampshire newspaper that featured their story on the front page. Mercedes wondered if they were telling the truth and agreed that anything was possible, though she said nothing as she ate her corn flakes because she knew it would make her mother angry as everything else did.

"We have to get home," Sam said.

"I can't believe you want to go home."

"So you want us to stand here? Besides, it may have been the Northern lights."

"I've seen the Northern Lights, and it's nothing like that."

"Well, I don't see the point in getting excited until we know what it is."

"Whatever," he said looking over at Mercedes, "What do you think?"

"I don't know."

Shaun looked up at the sky again.

"I wish I had pictures."

He stood there a few more minutes before walking back to the car. As he opened the front door, he glanced at his watch.

"I can't believe this."

"What is it?" Sam said.

"My watch, look at it," he said, raising his wrist for them to see. The red LCD digital numbers glowed brightly; it said 3:15.

"So, it's 3:15," Mercedes said, not understanding.

"Right. Don't you remember? It was 3:15 when I picked you guys up. Time stopped."

"Or you need a new battery," Sam said.

Shaun shook his head.

"I just got a new battery. I'm telling you time stopped. Check your watches."

"I'm not wearing one," Mercedes said.

"Neither am I," Sam said.

"That's convenient," Shaun said, clearly annoyed.

They got in the car, and he put the key in the ignition, as the engine started, he turned the radio back on:

"The time is now 3:15 AM, and it's cold as a witch's tit outside. Hope you Lima Beans are staying warm. And now, by request, here is Shame, Shame, Shame by Shirley & Company."

Shaun gripped the stirring wheel as the song played.

"See, what did I tell you? Time is screwed up."

Mercedes knew Sam knew what was happening but was refraining from explaining it because of Shaun.

"Drive," Sam said.

"Are you serious? We're in a loop. And you're acting like it's normal."

"Well, what should we do?" Mercedes asked.

Shaun looked over at her.

"I don't know. I read about this guy in a small fishing town in Ireland who kept experiencing déjà vu over and over again. He wouldn't even read the paper or watch the news because he said he had heard it before. They thought he was crazy, so they sent him to a shrink who couldn't find anything wrong with him except that he had anxiety. It got so bad for the guy that he stopped leaving the house."

"What happened to him?"

"He kept saying he had to break the loop. But he didn't know how to do it. He said every day was the same and he thought time trapped him inside a blue circle of light. The locals thought he was bonkers. He finally killed himself."

"That's awful."

"I know. But get this. It turns out others became afflicted with the same symptoms of déjà vu in that little town."

"Did they commit suicide too?"

"Yes."

"If all of this is true, how come it didn't make international news?" Mercedes said.

"The government wanted to keep it a secret. I read about it in Fate magazine. What if we can't break the loop?"

"Fate isn't exactly a reliable source."

"Spoken like a true skeptic," he said, "But I know it's true."

"Drive," Sam said, from the back seat, his voice threatening.

"Dude, did you not hear a word of what I said? What if we -"

But before Shaun could say anything else, a glowing cerulean blue light appeared and began to slowly draw itself around the car, as if trying to trap them inside a circle.

"Shit that's what they saw, this fucking circle…"

Sam jumped up from the back seat and grabbed Shaun by the neck.

"Listen, if you don't start driving, we'll get stuck. So either you drive, or I do it. Understand? I have no problem, throwing your ass in the trunk and driving myself."

The light crept around them, and before they became enclosed in the circle, Shaun hit the gas and zoomed down the road, as the loop chased them.

"Faster!" Sam said.

Shaun was going close to 90. Mercedes couldn't breathe, tears streamed down her face.

"Oh My God," she murmured under her breath, she couldn't scream or yell or do anything. She was frozen.

The radio repeated itself.

"The time is now 3:15 AM, and it's cold as a witch's tit outside. Hope you Lima Beans are staying warm. And now, by request, here is Shame, Shame, Shame by Shirley & Company."

"Goddammit!" Shaun said, "We're still in it."

The light was close behind them.

"Go in reverse!" Sam said

"What?"

"Do it!"

Shaun went in reverse. They moved backward in slow motion while the cerulean blue loop moved forward passing them and went into a giant round black hole that appeared above the center of the road. The time loop formed a complete circle once inside hole, spinning like a malfunctioning merry go round going faster and faster, it's light growing brighter until everything vanished. Suddenly it was daybreak, and the sun rose in the horizon, golden orange light filled the sky. A few birds chirped, and a deer crossed the road.

Shaun's body shook as he clutched the steering wheel and rested his head against it. The radio continued to play.

"Hey Lima Beans, Happy New Year! It is officially 1976! The time is now 7:51 AM. Hope Y'all are ready for another cold morning, even Old Man Winter is crying. Now here's something for all you poets and pony lovers out there - Wildfire by Michael Martin Murphy.

 _She comes down from Yellow Mountain_

 _On a dark, flat land she rides On a pony she named Wildfire…_

1976? Were they in the time loop for a week? Mercedes couldn't believe it, but it was December 26th when she and Sam walked across the field, and Shaun picked them up on the roadside. She laid her head against the cold glass window; her heart thumped in her chest. She listened to Shaun breathe beside her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it.

"Mercedes?"

She gazed at him. Shaun looked younger like he was a high school kid instead of a 22-year old college student. She couldn't explain it, but his face was youthful, like it was his first time out until 2 AM with his friends on Prom Night.

Shaun stared at her.

"You look different."

Mercedes looked at herself in the rear view mirror. A teenager stared back at her.

"Are you ok?" Shaun asked, scooting closer and hugging her.

She closed her eyes.

"No," she said.

Shaun held her, his body shook, and Mercedes knew he was scared too, but his need to comfort her was touching. The back door opened and Sam got out of the car and put his hand on Mercedes' shoulder.

"You two get in the back seat. I'll drive."

They looked up at him, the sunlight shined on his blond hair, and he looked the same as before.

"We need to leave," Sam said.

Shaun said nothing as he and Mercedes got out of the front seat, his thin arm encircling her wide waist, holding her to his side, so protective and gentle. They held each other in the backseat as Sam began to drive. Michael Martin Murphy's soft voice was the only sound in the car, save for the rumbling engine, and their low breathing.

 _She ran calling Wildfire_

 _She ran calling Wildfire_

 _She ran calling Wildfire_

Mercedes gave Sam directions, and ten minutes later they were in front of her three-story red brick apartment building. Everyone got out of the car and stood on the icy cement sidewalk. An old woman with silver hair in a black fur coat passed by them walking her big German Shepherd.

"Happy New Year!" She said to them, smiling while tugging the dog's leash.

"Happy New Year," Shaun said.

A few cars drove by on the street. The air was crisp and cold. Ice and snow sparkled beneath the sun's rays. Everything was normal. Except that it wasn't. At least not to them, their world changed.

Shaun put his arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, getting a whiff his weed and Macho Musk Oil scent. Sam handed him the keys, and they walked up the sidewalk to her building. Upon reaching the entrance, she got her key out and unlocked the glass door. When they were inside the main entry hallway, the smell of evergreen sprig air freshener greeted them. Confetti and tinsel covered the floor. The light was dim. Mercedes hassled the custodian about changing the hall lights, but her complaints fell on deaf ears. There were dirty puddles of melting snow near the dark wood stairs.

"Come on," she said, "I'm one flight up."

They followed her up the old, creaky stairs and down a long hallway to her apartment. Mercedes found a note on her door. She opened and read it.

 _"Dear Mercedes,_

 _Where are you? We're worried sick about you. I called the police. I even filed a missing person report, but those old farts only said you were probably on vacation but forgot to tell us. Then Shaun's mother came to the diner looking for him. Something is going on. I don't know what's happening, but if you get this note, please call me immediately. I love you._

 _Quinn_

"It's from Quinn," she said, "She's worried about us. Your mother was looking for you at the diner."

"Poor Mom. Do you mind if I use your phone?" Shaun said.

"Of course not."

Mercedes heard Cuddles meowing. She quickly unlocked the door and once inside, the orange tabby housecat, rubbed against her legs affectionately, as if greeting a long lost friend. She was shocked the cat wasn't dead; then she figured she probably ripped into the bag of dry cat food under the sink. Cuddles meowed and looked up at Sam and Shaun with mild interest before rubbing against Mercedes' legs again. Sam reached down and petted her head.

"Cute cat."

"If you say so," Mercedes said.

Sam and Shaun removed their coats too, and she hung them up in the closet near the door. Her apartment was a small, one bedroom with yellow shag carpet and bare white walls. The living room had a brown leather sofa, a pumpkin orange bean bag chair, and a square glass coffee table positioned in front of an old color TV with a clothes hanger for an antenna that sat atop a long, white rectangular stand with sliding doors. A partial wall separated the living room from the tiny kitchen with bright gold tiled floors and an avocado green fridge and stove. The apartment was chilly, so Mercedes turned up the thermostat and soon warm air blew in from the floor and ceiling vents.

Shaun was about to sit on the couch with Mercedes, but Sam quickly sat next to her, leaving him with the beanbag chair, which he sat on with a grimace. Sam held her hand as she dialed Quinn's number. There was no answer at her apartment, so she tried the diner and Quinn answered on the second ring.

"Spoony's Diner, how may I help you?"

"Quinn, it's me."

"Mercedes, oh God, we… where the hell have you been? We've been looking all over for you. Spoony was thinking about hiring a private detective. If you wanted to go on a secret vacation that's fine but at least – "

"No, Quinn, honey, I'm sorry for worrying you like this. But I'm home, and I'm safe. Shaun is with me too."

"Thank God you're safe. Why is Shaun with you? Are you two – "

"It's a long story."

"I need to see you."

"Quinn."

"Just let me come over for a few minutes," Quinn said, and she began to cry, "You're the closest thing to a sister that I have, and I love you. I even called Santana."

"What? Why?"

"I didn't know what else to do. Your black book was on the floor of the diner. It must've fallen out of your purse. I thought maybe Santana would know something even though she's in Columbus. I know it's awkward, and I'm sorry, but I was desperate. Of course, she didn't know anything, and she was scared too. I'll call and let her know you're ok. I called your Aunt Katherine in Virginia, but she was out of the country. And since I'm confessing to everything, I tried calling Tyrone, but the number was disconnected."

"That's probably for the best. I'm so sorry for upsetting everyone like this. And I love you too."

"Spoony is coming with me; we'll be there soon."

"But – "

"Don't worry. We won't ask questions or stay long. Bye."

Quinn hung up, and Mercedes put the phone on the end table.

"You can use it," She said to Shaun, "Quinn and Spoony are coming over."

Shaun dialed his mother, and Mercedes could hear her screaming over the phone at him, after a million apologies and saying he loved her and would be home soon, he hung up the phone.

"She was hysterical. I feel horrible. I'm glad I calmed her down."

"Me too," Mercedes said.

"Don't you have anyone to call?" Shaun said, looking over at Sam, "No one is worried about you?"

"No, I'm good."

"Well, we're not good," Shaun said, his eyes narrowing at Sam and Mercedes' clasped hands. "Why were we in a time loop? What were those lights in the sky? Why are me and Mercedes younger, but you're the same? You seem to know everything, so tell us. We lost a week of our lives."

Sam hung his head and sighed.

"Youth is a side effect of being trapped in the loop."

"Then why didn't it affect you and those Irish people? I want to know everything. Not just about the loop."

"Because I'm not completely human. Those Irish people probably weren't either. I'm part alien. Earth is in danger of being destroyed and – "

"Are you shitting me?"

Sam stood up, and his skin slowly changed to blue, and his eyes glowed, light shined around him.

Shaun sat there, his mouth agape.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, gazing at Sam, "What are you?"

"I'm part Zyfonian."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"My mother is from Zyfonia, and my father is from Earth."

"Zyfonia?"

"It's a planet."

"I get that but – "

"I don't have the energy to give you my life story. I've lived on both Earth and Zyfonia. Human blood and Zyfonian blood flows within me."

Sam changed back to his human form; he looked pale, and he sat down on the couch, his nose bled.

"Sam, are you ok?" Mercedes asked.

"Could you bring me some water and tissues?"

"Yes," she said getting up from the couch and going into the kitchen. Mercedes got him a glass of water, but she was out of tissues. After hunting around in her cabinets, she found some McDonald's napkins and hoped they would suffice. She returned to the living room and handed him the glass of water; he gulped it down and took the napkins from her, holding them up to his nose.

"Maybe you should lie down," she said, touching his forehead, he felt hot. His eyes were bloodshot.

"I have to undress. I need to… I need to heal."

"You need to tell us everything," Shaun said, unfazed by Sam's weakened state, "What's this about Earth's destruction?"

"Shaun, not now, he's ill," Mercedes said.

"You knew about this didn't you?"

"Some, not all."

"Then why didn't you –"

"It's complicated," she said and turned back to Sam, helping him from the couch, "Come on, you can use my bedroom. You have a fever. I'll get you some aspirin."

"No aspirin. Cold air."

His speech became slurred, and his eyes were closing. Mercedes guided him to the bedroom and closed the door. Sam sat on her queen-sized bed covered with a yellow patchwork quilt, and breathed heavily. A star map hung above her bed. His nose stopped bleeding, and he held a wad of bloody tissues in his hand. She opened the curtains, flooding the room with sunshine and opened the windows; the cold air blew inside, causing the papers on her little white desk to scatter about on the floor.

"Need the air on my skin," Sam whispered. He took off his ivory fisherman's sweater, revealing a chiseled chest and muscular arms, his small pink nipples were hard peaks; Mercedes wasn't sure what to expect, but the sight of his fit physique aroused her, then she felt self-conscious about her curves. He tugged at the zipper of his jeans, and his hands trembled.

"Could you help me?"

She nodded and kneeled before him, and pulled down his zipper.

"There," she said.

He lay back on the bed.

"Could you…"

Pausing for a moment, she gripped his faded, torn jeans and pulled them down his strong, lean legs covered with soft blonde hair. He wore a pair of green plaid boxers. A bluish, star-shaped birthmark was on his right thigh.

"Boxers too," he said.

The situation reminded Mercedes of how Tyrone would behave when she gave him a massage. "A little lower baby," he'd whisper, and then turn over, exposing his desire for her. She knew Sam wasn't propositioning her, yet the moment was intimate and borderline erotic. She pulled off his boxers and saw he was well-endowed; Mercedes was ashamed to admit that she thought he might look a little different "down there" but he was part human after all. Feeling light-headed, she stood up and lifted his legs onto her bed.

"Ok?"

Sam closed his eyes and levitated from the bed; he began to glow.

"I have to heal."

The image of his nude, muscled form floating in the wind and sunlight was beautiful and unsettling because she felt as if she was intruding on a sacred secret. She stared at him.

"I'll be in the living room."

"I know what's underneath," he said, "You need to heal too. Come here."

Mercedes tugged at the apron on her waitress uniform, feeling stripped bare for the world to see. Underneath. He knew what was underneath. She wasn't sure if she liked that.

"It's ok, Mercedes," he said, his voice dreamlike.

"I have to check on Shaun," she said and left the room, closing the door behind her, she couldn't stay another moment; something too close made her want to run away. She went into the living room and found Shaun in the kitchen fixing a pot of coffee.

"Is Sam ok?" he said as he got a couple of yellow mugs out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.

"He's sleeping."

"I need answers. So what can you tell me?"

"He's part alien, and the Earth could be destroyed."

"I already know that. Anything else?"

"He has to fill in the blanks. That whole loop thing is news to me."

The coffee pot rumbled and brewed, filling the kitchen with a rich aroma of Brazilian coffee beans.

"How are we going to explain our appearance to everyone?" Shaun said, getting milk out of the fridge, "Say we got face-lifts?"

"That milk is probably expired, and I don't know."

He opened the carton of milk, sniffing it, he wrinkled his nose.

"You're right; it's spoiled. My Mom is gonna go batshit when she sees me."

"Maybe the side effect will wear off."

"I think you know more than you're letting on."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No, I think you're protecting Sam for some reason."

"It's best if he tells you himself. It's his story."

"Screw that. We've been through a time hell loop and saw those weird flashing lights in the sky, and now you're telling me Earth is in danger, and I have to wait to hear it from him, while he's dozing in your bedroom."

"He's sick."

Shaun poured the coffee into the mugs.

"Where's your sugar?"

"In the canister next to the toaster."

He put in some sugar into each mug and stirred them. He handed one to Mercedes.

"Here."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They went into the living room and sat on the couch. Mercedes turned on the TV. The morning news team on WJKW News Center 8 Cleveland had begun to discuss the flashing lights in the sky from the previous night. News anchor, Jim Finerty, looking pensive in his gray pinstripe suit and stiff, glossy brown hair, stared into the camera and gave commentary on the events.

"And to ring in 1976, an unexplained phenomenon happened last night. A series of strange, blue lights that burst into sparkling matter appeared in the sky. This bizarre spectacle has scientists and astronomers baffled. A few blurry pictures were taken but don't do justice to the actual event. One thing is certain, this is not the Northern Lights, and the government vehemently denies any involvement."

His fellow anchor, Kathy Adams, a young, attractive black woman, with short, coiffed hair and ruby lips, wearing a long-sleeved cream silk blouse and gold hoop earrings, added her thoughts on the matter:

"I'm anxious to see how this story develops. I'm sure many theories will come to the forefront."

"Me too," Fred said, "And to see pictures that are not blurry blobs."

"I'd like some clear pictures too," Kathy said, "Well, it's an exciting way to start the New Year. Now in other news, from Washington, President Ford declares another property tax increase for the year ahead."

Shaun took a sip of his coffee as he gazed at the TV screen.

"I always had a bit of a crush on Kathy," he said.

"Really?"

"Are you surprised?"

"A little. I mean she's pretty. I just wouldn't think she was your type."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Because she's not blonde and blue?"

"I suppose."

"I also like a fuller figure."

Mercedes wasn't sure how to respond. Everything had been insane for the last few hours that maybe Shaun was reeling from the effects. She was quiet for a moment then said:

"You read all that weird phenomenon stuff, and you're all for conspiracies. Nothing ever came up about blue aliens on Earth?"

"No, just the Greys."

"More than grey aliens have been here."

"Is that something Sam told you?"

Mercedes leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes.

"He told me a lot of things."

"I bet. Do you think the time loop trapped anyone else?"

She opened her eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe. I'm taking a quick shower before Quinn and Spoony come. Are you going home soon?"

Shaun drank some more coffee.

"Yeah, I should leave now, but I'm coming back."

He set the mug on the table and hugged her close to his heart.

"Mercedes, I'm scared. I know something awful is about to happen and I know I'm acting like a dick, but I don't care. I'll be brave for you, and I'll protect you. I promise."

"Shaun, you're not acting like a dick, you're on edge that's all and – "

"Look, I'm not just some goofy college guy with crazy ideas. I care about you and –"

Suddenly, someone knocked on her door.

"Mercedes, it's Quinn and Spoony, open up!"

Mercedes pulled away from Shaun's embrace.

"I better answer the door."

When she opened the door, Quinn threw her arms around Mercedes hugging her tight. She smelled like cloves cigarettes and her long blonde hair brushed against Mercedes' cheek, fresh and clean and heavy with the fragrance of Prell shampoo.

"I'm happy you're alive and safe," Quinn said, her tears falling onto Mercedes' shoulder.

"Did you think I was dead?"

"It crossed my mind," she pulled away from Mercedes and said: "You look… different younger, was this all planned for some secret face-lift?"

"I didn't look that old before."

"No, I don't mean that. But you could be in high school. Did you lose weight? Why are you wearing your uniform?"

"I'm the same," Mercedes said trying to play it off as if Quinn were exaggerating. She kissed her friend's cheek. "I'm sorry you thought I was dead."

Then Spoony hugged her. His gray stubble rubbed against her cheek, and his wiry arms wrapped around her, and it felt as if he were fearful she would disappear before his eyes.

"Old, young, fat, skinny… I don't care how you look, so long as you're safe and not lying in some God-forsaken ditch somewhere. You had us all worried."

"I'm sorry."

"Glad, you're back, kid."

They went into the living room, and Shaun got up from the couch.

"I'll see myself out," He said, "Hi Quinn, Hi Spoony."

"I can't believe you're here. Your mother is worried sick," Quinn said poking his chest. "And you look young too. What is going on?"

"You'll find out in time," he said and hugged them both. Then he grabbed his coat from the closet near the door and left the apartment.

Mercedes wondered if Sam was still levitating in her bedroom as she squeezed next to Quinn and Spoony on the couch. She turned off the TV.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am for worrying you the way I did. It wasn't intentional."

"Are you in trouble," Quinn said.

"No, and I wish I could say more."

"Will you go away again?" Spoony asked, covering her smooth, brown hand with his pale, withered one, "My old heart can't take another scare."

Mercedes kissed his forehead.

"I may go away again. I don't know when or how long."

Silence fell over the room until Quinn said:

"You know I'm nosy as hell, and I want to know what's going on, but I get that you can't tell us now. All I will say is, if you need us for anything, please call. Especially if you're in over your head, maybe we can help."

Mercedes hugged them both once again.

"I promise I will."

 **OOO**

Sam floated for another hour until he felt his strength fully return to his body. Then he descended to the bed, and lay there nude, in front of the open window. His eyes roamed over to her writing desk in the corner. It was painted white and had one drawer with a crystal knob. Above the desk hung an oval-shaped gold-framed mirror. He got up from the bed to look at the photos. One was of Mercedes and her father in the backyard of their house, Mercedes was a teenager, and she's barefoot, her curvy legs displayed in white shorts, and her father stood beside her, his arm around her, they're posing in front of the rosebushes in full bloom.

There was a photo of her brother in his military uniform standing on the steps of the church, and there was a picture with the whole family sitting outside at a picnic table, grinning at the camera. A hardcover copy of the anthology book called The Last Dangerous Visions lay on her desk. He opened it up and found a few more photos, nestled in the middle of the book, lying on top of a short story called Childfinder by Octavia Butler. But these photos weren't of her family. They were of Mercedes and what appeared to be a woman of Latin descent with long, black hair. In one snapshot their arms are around each other as they snuggled up on a park bench and in another, the Latina woman was kissing her cheek, they're sitting together beneath a cherry wood tree. And in another, they kissed each other in a sunny kitchen, lips pressed together, a red scarf covered Mercedes' head. Both women were topless, wearing long strands of colorful Mardi Gras beads around their necks, their bountiful, bare bosoms pushed together, a pretty contrast of light caramel and deep mocha skin, holding each other in a lover's embrace.

"That's my ex-girlfriend Santana," Mercedes said from behind him.

Sam was so engrossed in looking at the photos that he didn't hear her enter the bedroom. He looked at her, startled at being caught.

"Oh… so you're…."

"I'm me."

"I'm not judging you."

"I know."

"You looked happy."

"We were."

Sam put the photos back in the book and closed it. He never thought Mercedes would be bisexual. Not that it mattered.

"I'm taking a shower," she said, looking away from him, "You can take one too if you want."

"Ok."

"In the meantime, close the window and put on some clothes."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

"We need to talk about everything. Shaun went home, but he's coming back."

"Ok."

Mercedes gazed at him for a second and left the room before he could say anything else. Sam wasn't ready to get dressed. He loved the feel of the cold air on his skin, so he remained naked for a few more minutes, letting the frigid wind seep into his body, like a drug-induced rush. Then he finally shut the window and closed the curtains. He was sad that he made her uncomfortable, his nakedness was just a given to him, like anything else, his body was a functional breathing organism, and it shocked him that anyone would feel shy around it. Perhaps his Zyfonian side influenced how he viewed nudity. It was also puzzling because Mercedes was topless in one photo but maybe it was the context of the situation that made it different. Before donning his clothes, he stood in the middle of the floor, closing his eyes and holding out his arms. His skin slowly turned blue and began to glow. His chest opened up and a hexagonal pyramid shaped Crystal emerged, floating in front of him, but it was black in the middle and did not hold it's usual majestic sparkle. Sam bowed his head in deference to the jewel.

"I come to you for guidance."

The Crystal bobbed in front of him. Sam waited. He repeated his request. And nothing happened. Discouraged, he allowed the Crystal to return to his chest. With no answers from the jewel, he had no direction. Sam wondered if it was an internal emotional block that affected the energy of the Crystal, unsure and not knowing whom to confide in left him at a loss. He listened to Mercedes sing in the shower across the hall.

 _She comes down from Yellow Mountain_

 _On a dark, flat land she rides_

 _On a pony she named Wildfire…_

Her voice was sad and fragile. Sam closed his eyes and tears slipped down his cheeks. Time was running out, and he needed the Crystal's guidance more than ever.

* * *

 **NOTE:** Thank you for reading and reviewing my story!


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

 **Summary:** Mercedes and Sam grow closer. Shaun faces his past.

 **Warning** : Cursing, violence, domestic abuse, racial and homophobic slurs

 **Rating:** Mature

* * *

Mercedes got out of the shower and dried herself off with a big, yellow towel. She opened her mason jar of homemade lotion sitting on the counter and applied it to her damp skin. The cream was a mixture of shortening and coconut oil, a recipe her mother gave her long ago. Taking her time, she rubbed it all over her body, and when she finished; she combed through her wet hair and braided it into cornrows. Gazing at her youthful reflection in the mirror, she thought of Sam across the hall, floating in her bedroom, naked and oblivious to modesty, and how he found pictures of her and Santana. Her ex-girlfriend would think Sam was a freak. Mercedes imagined she would laugh, hold her hand and say: "Girl, please, if he's an alien then I'm Queen of England." Then she would keep talking and laughing, and pulling Mercedes closer until she could touch her face, something she wanted to do all along, bring her back into a love long gone.

Mercedes turned around to look at her back, checking to see if her tattoo was still there. She thought the time loop might have caused it to disappear, but there it was on her upper right shoulder blade: a tattooed solar system map of Jupiter and all of its moons, with the retrograde planet Jupiter XII, displayed in vibrant powder blue ink, prominently standing out from the others in darker blue ink.

"Jupiter," her brother Louis's voice whispered in her ear, and for a brief moment, he gripped her shoulder. Tears filled her eyes. It wasn't enough to cry. What good did it do? Nothing could bring him back: he was in a white casket draped with an American flag and buried with military honors. But for all the talk of his courage and the solemn beauty of the funeral, Mercedes only thought of the missing bottom half of his body due to a landmine blast in a Vietnam jungle. One of his fellow soldiers, a guy named Teddy, who was "gone in the head" as they say, told her something vicious and ugly, thinking he was helping her. They were in the cemetery after the funeral. The sky was overcast, and Mercedes shivered in her wool coat, her parents were talking to the minister, when Teddy limped over to her, his prosthetic leg gave him an odd gait. After exchanging polite pleasantries, his face turned dark when he spoke of Louis' death on the battlefield.

"Yeah, he was talking about how he had a little sister back home who loved the stars, and he was gonna buy you an Uhura doll. And then a second later he was blown up. And we had to clean up his body, you know his guts, and stuff and all I could remember was how he was gonna buy you an Uhura doll, and how we would play cards in our bunker and all kinds of crazy shit. Like how he liked to sing Build Me Up Buttercup and drink sticky rice wine and we had to clean up all his bloody guts, all his insides, bits of him everywhere, and I couldn't stop thinking about these things. He loved you a lot."

Teddy's words ran together. His gray eyes never focused on her but on something beyond her, another time and place where machine guns blasted, and bodies lay in heaps. Mercedes ran away from him, far across the cemetery until she couldn't run anymore. She tried to pretend that Teddy was lying and her brother would be home soon, and he would tell her fabulous tales about the other side of the world, but all she could see was his body blown in half, flesh and guts, blood rivers in the grass.

Mercedes pushed the ugliness from her mind as she slipped on her favorite long, flannel nightgown, with a faded pattern of yellow teddy bears dancing in a blue sky. It wasn't bedtime, but she needed the comfort of the soft material against her skin. Sam knocked on the door.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"You ok?"

She opened the door. Sam looked at her, reaching out, he took hold of her hand.

"You were in there a long time."

"Sorry, I'm done now. You can take a shower."

Instead of going into the bathroom, he squeezed her hand and pulled her into the bedroom where they sat on the bed, side by side.

"We don't have much time," he said, "That was my grandfather Bicav, sending me those light messages in the sky. His intelligence officers told him the Aekehmeans are invading Earth and Zyfonia on Tuesday. We only have five days. He wants me to come back home, let the Crystal guide us to victory against the Aekemeans and fight in our army. I'm one of the best warriors on the planet. They need me."

Mercedes wanted to be empathetic, but her fear of Earth's destruction outweighed her compassion for Sam's plight.

"And what about Earth? Are you leaving us to fend for ourselves? We need you too. Could the Crystal help us? How are we to fight against an alien race that knows us our weaknesses and strengths, hell they even know our Gods, so what are we to do?"

"My father, stepmother, and brother Scott are here on Earth. I'm part human too. I'm not heartless. But my mother is on Zyfonia and so is my brother Ares and stepfather Khrelan and my grandparents and, well everyone."

"My family is gone except for a few relatives. I'm alone. I don't want to see what little I have left destroyed."

"Quinn, Spoony, and Shaun are your family. You're not completely alone."

"Well, that won't matter anyway if we all die next week, right?"

"Mercedes, please, I'm figuring it out."

"You said we didn't have much time. We can't wait for you to figure it out."

"Remember how I said some Zyfonians disliked that I was the Crystal Keeper?

"Yes."

"Well, it was more than dislike, They hated me for it. I got harassed on a daily basis. All because I was a hybrid and not many of us live on Zyfonia because we're like second-class citizens. But I got special treatment because Bicav is the Emperor, and it helped, but being the Crystal Keeper, brought out the worst in everyone. They stopped tolerating my presence. I was openly hated. Even my brother turned on me, though we've always been at odds. Anyway, things got worse when a young militant group kidnapped my girlfriend Joolaya and said they would kill her if I didn't give up being the Crystal Keeper. Those idiots didn't believe they could lose their eyes by touching the Crystal, and it's not something you hand over, the Crystal chose me, I can't give it up, it won't let me. They said that was all bullshit the Elders made up, and none of it was true. Joolaya escaped unharmed, but she was in bad shape emotionally. They imprisoned the militants, and I tried to get her to come live on Earth with me, but she said Zyfonia was home. I couldn't take the hatred, so I came back to Earth, and I've been here ever since."

"How long has it been?"

"Six years."

"You haven't been back in six years?"

"Don't get me wrong; I'll visit but not for very long. Bicav doesn't want me to let the hatred of the militants to turn me cold, and not everyone had it out for me. And he's right, and I had much support from a great number of Zyfonians. Now they need me to save our planet."

The mention of a girlfriend "back home" made Mercedes feel borderline jealous. She hated herself for wanting to know, but she said:

"Do you still love Joolaya?"

"No, things changed."

Mercedes wanted to ask what changed yet decided against it.

"Your grandfather is right not to let their hatred ruin you but why save those who want to destroy you? We need you. The Zyfonians have a much better chance of defeating the Aekehmeans than us humans do."

"Bicav thinks you should fend for yourselves. We tried for thousands of years to help you, but you turned us away."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm not saying I feel that way."

"I know. I'm exhausted and terrified, and I want to I survive."

"I don't know if your guns will kill them. Earth is so behind in technology. Regardless we should use every weapon we have anyway."

"I think with my family gone and my failed relationships; it left me cold. I guess I forgot myself for a long time."

Sam squeezed her hand.

"You matter."

Mercedes wasn't sure why but she began to sob, and Sam held her as she cried. He sang to her in Zyfon:

 _Svorruvk vesr brudam vemsk kemd usrar voaek su krae_

 _Amd kserr sraae reka_

 _Hesrar srom orr sra usrar berdk_

(Sparrows with broken wings find other ways to fly

And still, they rise

Higher than all the other birds)

Mercedes didn't need to know what he was singing; she sensed what it meant. Sam's voice had an odd, otherworldly quality to it, and it sounded like two voices singing together. Did he know about the cyanide pill, kept safe and sound in her little tin pillbox, a means to an end, a way out? She felt her eyes closing, and her body drifted into a pleasant warmth, Sam's invisible blanket wrapped around her in the cold room. He whispered in her ear.

"Ksoae." (Stay)

 **OOO**

There were certain words in the Zyfon language that didn't translate well to human languages, especially English, and two words - vuimdad kveres that Sam believed described Mercedes, when loosely translated, meant "wounded spirit." He held her as she slept, careful not to infiltrate her dreams, though his curiosity tempted him. She didn't see her beautiful, raw reflection. His need for a shower and to use the toilet forced him to leave the warm bed, and with great reluctance, he pulled his arms from around her plump, soft body. He covered her with the quilt and went across the hall. The energy in the bathroom was off, and sadness filled Sam. If he waited long enough, he could deduce what transpired, but as a matter of privacy, he preferred to have Mercedes tell him everything and why her sorrow ran so deep within in her.

Sam relieved himself and took a cold shower. Cold showers and snow were like drugs to him, the kind that humans used to get high and forget who they were and come crashing down in dark corners, only to search again for that feeling, succumbing to it every time. At least his drugs were natural; he didn't have any adverse side effects, only a pleasant tingling in his blood; it gave him the mental strength to carry on through adversity. The freezing water ran over his flesh, creating goose pimples, and then his skin changed to a combination of blue and pale peach, coming together in a marble swirl pattern as the water absorbed into his skin, beneath the epidermal layer, and into his blood.

 _What color is your blood?_

Zyfonian children asked him this question while he was at the Military Academy, training to be a warrior. They knew he was a hybrid, this repulsed many of his peers, but others were only curious, and he didn't have the wisdom of discernment to pick the wheat from the chaff, so he fought harder than any of them, so they couldn't say, he wasn't good enough for their military force. He never answered their question until and one day a bully named Zeeron, who was twice as big as everyone in the class, cornered him after morning exercises in the training room, shoving him to the hard green glass floor, that sparkled like an ocean beneath the sun. Sam saw his reflection of fear and complacency in the glass before his tormentor, turned him over and sat on top of him cutting into his arm, and a trickle of his blood appeared.

"Red," Zeeron said, peering down at him, "Dirty red blood."

A second later, Sam began fighting back. He gained strength from lifting weights and carrying the most massive rocks during the stamina drills and waking before the sun rose to climb the mountainous terrain surrounding the academy. Boiling anger replaced his sadness. He centered his core energy, concentrating all power in his abdomen before sending it to the rest of his body: brilliant blue lightwaves flickered inside him. On the night he was born in a cold cabin in the Massachusetts woods, his Grandmother Leiosha said when they pulled from his mother's womb, his light was brighter than the stars and was a shade of blue she had never seen. It made him special. Sam channeled his power, and as it reached his limbs he took hold of Zeeron's throat and tossed him across the room, his wound closed immediately. But Zeeron was not easily defeated, and he stood up, dazed and disoriented but equally as angry and charged at Sam, but his strength wasn't centered and Sam merely punched his chest, sending Zeeron to the ground once again. That was far from their last fight and only the beginning of their hateful rivalry. Joolaya had left her prism charm in the training room and came back to get it when she found them fighting and broke it up. She never asked Sam the color of his blood.

He lifted his arm and located the place where Zeeron had pierced his flesh, not a sign of injury was apparent: no scarring or faint marks. But he knew it happened, and inexplicably, that part of his body sometimes itched reminding him of the attack and Joolaya's green eyes in the sunlight, her war cry yells as she got between them, cursing their behavior, as she stopped the fight. Both boys and girls trained together at the academy and Joolaya was an accomplished warrior herself. During the practice fight drills, many Zyfonian boys dreaded having her as an opponent. Sam shut his eyes. That was long ago.

 _"Asudu, what does ice cream taste like?"_

That's what she said to him later that day after his fight with Zeeron. In Culinary Arts they studied foods on other planets, and they discussed Earth's ice cream though no one could understand how eating a frozen dessert made from white liquid squeezed from a mammal's teat could be appetizing. It intrigued them none the less, and Sam was the only one to know what it tasted like as he had lived on Earth when the others only saw pictures and movies. After class, he and Joolaya went for a walk and ended up sitting under sugar fruit tree. It was a tall snow white tree that bore round pinkish blue fruit with a hard shell outside, and soft, yellow flesh inside that grew in segmented sections, it was something like a cross between Earth's peaches and oranges but much more flavorful. As the sun was setting, Joolaya picked a large, ripe, sugar fruit, from one of the lower branches, and carefully cut it into quarters with her clear glass handled knife she kept in her knapsack and gave him a piece. They ate the fruit, licking nectar from their lips as the brisk wind blew across their skin, and she never asked about his human side only of ice cream and how he could run faster than everyone else.

Sam picked up the pink bar of Camay soap, and its floral fragrance turned his thoughts to Mercedes. He couldn't deny the spell she had on him, and his desire to be vulnerable in her presence and wanting the same vulnerability in return. When she was ready, Sam could help her heal. As he rubbed the soap onto the yellow washcloth, he thought about Christmas Eve, how he wandered into Spoony's Diner, because of a glimpse of the mahogany-skinned waitress that drew him inside, with her universe of kinky, coiled hair and round figure. Sam saw her through the window, pouring tea into a mug and talking to a customer, she smiled and laughed at the fellow she was chatting with who turned out to be Shaun. A warm tingle fluttered in his belly. He had nowhere to go and had run out of money, and for the first time in forever, he felt something, the same something that meant flowers and candy and late night talks, but being part Zyfonian, romance was different: you went on a midnight hunt for the Diamond Wolf, a nocturnal creature with pointed fur resembling sparkling glass and glowing blue eyes. He wasn't sure if Mercedes would be up for such an adventure, but he would love to share that experience with her.

He rinsed off and picked up the black plastic bottle of Afro Sheen concentrated shampoo with its African-inspired green and yellow triangular design; he opened it and poured some of the thick, white, shampoo into his palm, and relished its sweet aroma. His soapy blond locks reached the middle of his back; he looked like the dreaded hippies, who staunch Conservatives loved to hate. When he finished, he got out of the shower, dried off, and as Sam was about to leave the bathroom, he heard a knock on the front door. He tied the towel tight around his narrow waist and went to answer it. When he opened the door, Shaun glared at him; his expression disdainful.

"Where's Mercedes?"

"Sleeping."

Shaun pushed him aside and went into the living room, sitting down on the couch beside Cuddles who was curled up into an orange ball, fast asleep.

"Sit down; we need to talk."

"Nothing happened," Sam said, closing the door. He knew Shaun thought he and Mercedes had sex. He moved Cuddles to the beanbag chair and sat down.

Shaun ran his hands through his shaggy hair.

"Listen, I care for Mercedes a lot. And I'll do everything I can protect her from harm, and that includes you."

"I would never hurt her," Sam said.

"You're the one who dragged her into this. I found you two walking in the middle of the night on the side of the road, and she was crying, so forgive me for not trusting you won't hurt her."

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "For everything."

Shaun's expression softened.

"I accept your apology, but my warning still stands."

"Anything else?"

"Will we always look young? I got pulled over on my way here because the cops thought I was too young to be driving."

"You'll start aging again from how you look now. So it doesn't wear off, you're just growing up again, physically that is."

"Tell me everything about the war, the time loop, just everything."

"That'll take awhile."

"I got nothing but time," Shaun said. Sam sighed and stood up.

"Ok, let me get dressed."

"I'll make us some coffee," Shaun said, getting up as well, "We're gonna need it."

"I'll take salt and sugar in mine," Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever, man."

 **OOO**

Sam went into the bedroom and slipped on his jeans and sweater. He watched Mercedes sleeping, and wanted lie next to her and hold her once again: it was beyond the human definition of attraction and desire. His stepfather Khrelan said humans used too many words. Perhaps he was right. He felt many things, and none of them could be described with words, at least not now. He felt her dreaming, could sense the unrest in her body as she turned over and whispered in her sleep.

"No more."

No more what? What could he do to help? He promised her he wouldn't invade her dreams anymore. Maybe Ares had somehow come to threaten her, but he doubted that. His brother could be lacking in character at times, yet he would never harm Mercedes. He decided to wake her up and touched her shoulder.

"Mercedes?"

She slowly opened her eyes, yawning she said:

"Is it morning?"

"No, you were talking in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?"

She shook her head.

"I don't think so. Everything is foggy."

"Shaun is here."

"I'm going to sleep a while longer."

He stroked her cheek.

"Sleep as long as you like."

She nodded and closed her eyes again. Sam went back into the living room where Shaun was setting the coffee mugs on the table along with a platter of crackers.

"That's all she had in the cupboard unless you have a hankering for Tender Vittles."

"I'll pass. We should go to the market."

"Not now. I have a million questions."

So over coffee and saltines, Sam told Shaun everything he wanted to know. After he finished, it was late afternoon. Mercedes was still asleep.

"There's something else I want to know," Shaun said.

"What is it?"

"Did Bicav know those messages would cause a time loop on Earth? Why didn't he just come down like Ares?"

"Bicav detests Earth and has no desire to come down here. He misjudged how much the atmosphere has changed and forgot time loops occur through our light messages. Those Irish villagers were descendants of hybrids. If we got stuck, I would've gone insane and suffered the same fate."

"But you acted like it wasn't happening at first."

"That's because I thought we had time to go before the loop formed. I didn't want to panic everyone, and I couldn't reveal my identity."

"Which are you going to choose? Earth or Zyfonia?"

Sam sighed.

"I don't know. Earth needs me more."

"We need you more. Now we have to plan a strategy. Get together the military forces in each country to fight back."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"The Golden Voyager Records. You know the ones we sent into space? What if we have Bicav send a message to Earth from the Voyager Spacecraft, letting humans know extraterrestrials exist, but war is coming."

"Trust me; enough aliens have seen those records. To us, it's like junk mail."

"Wow, that's harsh."

"Sorry, but humans, and I include myself in the bunch, always think they're fascinating."

"It's not like we sent the Voyager to show superiority, only to make contact. Besides, we're interesting enough to be conquered. If we had no value, nobody would invade."

"You're right."

"Do you think Bicav would do it, despite his hatred for Earth?"

Sam knew the only way Bicav would agree to the Space Voyager warning is if he came back to Zyfonia to fight. He would also have to return to the planet and ask him in person, and though he hadn't revealed this to either Shaun or Mercedes, Sam feared the Aekehmeans were coming sooner rather than later, he wasn't sure why he felt that way, but his gut kept telling him this. The Crystal's black state worried him. What was he doing wrong?

"Sam?"

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about stuff."

"Apparently. So would Bicav do it?"

"Do you think the government and military would take the message seriously? You've never trusted them before."

"I know, but I can't think of another way. The light messages cause time loops and no other species is offering to help."

"We'll have to see. Let's go to the market. Mercedes will be hungry when she wakes up, and we all need to keep up our strength."

"That's the least of our worries."

Sam stood up and went to the closet pulling out his patched denim jacket and putting it on.

"I need some air."

He walked out of the apartment with Shaun following behind him. Sam locked the door, and they went down the creaky stairs together and out the front entrance door into the cold afternoon.

"I'll drive," Sam said, "We don't need the cops pulling us over."

Shaun handed him the keys as they walked to his tangerine Pinto parked out front. Sam unlocked the doors, and they got in.

"Where's the market?"

"About five blocks from here. I know the way."

"Do you have any money?"

"Yeah."

Sam started the car and turned the radio on.

"Hey Lima Beans, Happy New Year. Hope you're having a rockin' day off. What's your resolution? Here's some Bay City Rollers to get you in the groovin'."

"That DJ is obnoxious," Sam said, turning down the volume.

"He's not bad."

"Humph."

Shaun gave him directions, and about fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of the Big Bear supermarket, a long, one-story brown brick building with a giant red bear sitting on top of the store's rooftop sign. Snow plows heaped mountains of dirty, gray snow in the center of the parking lot. A couple of black turkey vultures perched on top of the snow mountains, searching for any speck of food on the icy pavement below. The sky was turning a soft shade of purple as the sun began to set.

"It's double coupon day," Shaun said pointing to the big white poster painted with red letters displayed in the front window, "It's a good thing I have some in my wallet, though I don't know if Mercedes likes liverwurst."

"You clip coupons?"

"Yeah, I need all the help I can get," Shaun said.

The DJ's voice interrupted The Bay City Rollers singing Saturday Night and said:

"Shaun, what you need is to let me beat that bitch mother of yours and stop crying like a pussy when it happens."

"What the hell?" Shaun said staring at the radio, "What in hell – "

"You hear me, boy, I'm talking to you. It's your long lost daddy; you thought I was dead didn't you. Nothing can kill me. I swear I'm gonna kill that whore when I see her."

Shaun smashed the radio with his fists.

"Shut up!"

The voice got deeper, almost demonic.

"Aren't you happy to hear from Daddy?"

"He's dead," Shaun said, "He's dead!" He tried to unlock the door and get out of the car, but the door stayed locked.

"I have to get out!"

"Shaun, this isn't real," Sam said, "It's the Aekehmeans."

"Don't listen to him you worthless piece of shit, always crying about your Mama. The bitch had it coming every time I roughed her up, and you would cry in the corner, remember when I beat her with that belt when dinner wasn't ready?"

Shaun continued pounding the radio, but the voice grew stronger with each word.

"I'm as real as anything else. Your so-called friend is a liar."

Shaun smashed his fist against the car window.

"Let me out!"

"Shaun, stop, look at me."

"His voice is in my head."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, I'm in your head, boy, and I'm gonna stay there. I'm Deacon Fronheiser, don't you know, we Fronheisers don't let anything stop us. Don't listen to him. Besides he lied to you. He slept with Mercedes. The two of them were laughing about you behind your back saying you were a nutcase for believing all that alien shit. Sam ain't no alien just a broke drifter with a blue skin circus trick. Remember how you didn't have friends in school? What did they call you? Looney Tunes Shaun?"

"You said you didn't sleep with her!"

"I swear I didn't. Nothing happened."

"Boy, he was wearing a towel when you opened the door, and Mercedes was asleep. She wasn't sleeping, just resting from all that dick he gave her."

"Shaun, I – "

"Ask him if he held her in his arms."

Sam's stomach dropped. It was true. But it had nothing to do with sex.

Shaun stared at him, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Did you hold her?"

"Yes."

"And he was naked in that room, weren't you, Sam?"

"Shaun, dude, listen to me. I had to be naked to heal. I only held her to comfort her because – "

But Sam couldn't finish his bizarre explanation because Shaun lunged at him, pushing him against the window, his hands wrapped around Sam's throat, choking him.

"You lied. "

"Keep your hands on his throat, that's it, boy, kill that motherfucker, and forgiveness is yours; that's all you want, right? Forgiveness?" Deacon said.

Sam being the stronger of the two, pushed Shaun off of him and onto his back, straddling his waist, he covered his mouth:

"I need you to listen to me. I did not sleep with Mercedes. None of this is real."

Deacon continued talking:

"You thought you saved your mother's life."

Sam got in his face, staring into eyes, keeping his hand on Shaun's mouth he said.

"Killing me won't help. It's the Aekehmeans. I'm taking my hand away, and you're not going to freak out. Stop listening to him. Focus on my voice."

"Shaun, he's a lying son of a bitch. Think about it. What woman ever wanted you? You think Mercedes wants you? Every girl you tried to get wanted somebody else. You can stop all these bastards taking what's yours by killing this hippie motherfucker holding you down right now, go on son, kill him and get that forgiveness you want. Then when he's out of the way, I got a whole list for you."

Shaun moved around beneath Sam, trying to get away. At least he wasn't screaming; Sam mused as he watched him struggle.

"Mercedes cares about you Shaun, ok?"

"What's happening to me?"

"Shaun, listen to me, I – "

"I hate his voice. Please stop his voice. "

Shaun stopped struggling as he dissolved into tears, Sam got off of him and held the younger man to his chest, in a protective manner, stroking his back the way a parent would soothe a child. He wondered what forgiveness Shaun sought but dared not ask.

"Focus on my voice. Not his."

"I'm scared."

"I'm here. Just focus."

Shaun's body changed. He grew smaller until he was a little boy of about 11 years old, his clothes hung on him, as they were now too large.

"He's gonna hurt Mama tonight."

Sam wasn't sure what was happening, but he spoke to Shaun as if this were all normal.

"Who?"

"Daddy."

The Pinto transformed into a house, and he and little-boy Shaun stood at the top of the stairs that led to a basement below. Soft yellow light from the kitchen shined on them, and Sam saw an obese man over six feet tall and at least 300 pounds, with sideburns and red sunburned skin. He wore dirty bell bottom jeans that exposed his butt crack, and a threadbare white undershirt that barely covered his beer gut, standing by the kitchen sink. He held a petite woman's head under the running faucet, forcing her face into the basin. She struggled to get away but couldn't; her cut-off denim shorts, exposed the purple bruises covering her pale, skinny legs, and the water drenched her faded yellow tank-top. She screamed and cried, but he only laughed at her struggle. Sam knew it was Shaun's father, Deacon Fronheiser.

"Serves you, right Dolores," he said, "No use fighting it. How could you burn dinner again?"

"Deacon, please," she said before he shoved her head under the faucet again.

A haze of smoke rose from the stove, drifting in a gray cloud above them. It was a hot, humid summer evening. Sam saw a cluster of black army ants crawling over partially eaten chocolate bar lying in the center of the cracked, green linoleum floor. Moths flew in from the open window near the sink and fluttered about the stove light. This place in Shaun's consciousness wasn't an average memory, not like what he and Mercedes experienced, and he didn't bring them there through the blue portal tunnel. It was something entirely different, utterly foreign to him, and it was almost like a punishment of some sort, as if this nightmare plagued Shaun's existence, Sam surmised it was Shaun's unconscious fight against the Aekehmeans that created this universe. Regardless of what was happening, Sam wanted to stop the cruel abuse, and he was about to go into the kitchen when Shaun held him back, gripping his hand he shook his head. Sam figured it was just as well because wherever they were; the parents probably couldn't see him. It was then he realized Shaun no longer wore the oversized adult clothes but dirty red shorts and a blue Star Trek t-shirt with the USS Enterprise on the front. Two flesh-toned adhesive bandages covered his right knee, and red iodine stains covered his sandal-clad feet. A six-pack of Hudepohl beer was on the floor next to him with a small brown paper bag from Peoples Drugstore sitting on top. And he held a big, white grease-stained pager bag from Red Barn printed with its signature barn and sun logo. The mouth-watering aroma of fresh hot burgers and fries wafted into the kitchen mixing in with the stench of burned steak and cigarettes.

"No," he whispered, tears glistened in his eyes, letting go of Sam's hand, then he said to his father, "I got dinner."

Deacon released Dolores, who fell forward against the sink like a rag doll.

"Got my change?"

"Yeah."

"And my beer?"

"Yeah."

"Better not be Fronheiser. Not since my asshole father disowned us."

"I got Hudepohl."

"Good."

Sam tried to hold him back, grabbing his shoulder, thinking maybe he could protect him or at least stop something terrible from happening. But Shaun pulled away from him, and an invisible shield appeared. It was a transparent glass wall that separated Sam from the kitchen, keeping him captive at the top of the stairs, which lead to the dank basement below, he smelled the damp, moldy air of the lower floor. Shaun picked up his stuff and walked into the kitchen, sitting everything on the round coffee stained table surrounded by mismatched chairs from various local restaurants. Dolores clung to the sink, shaking, while Deacon held out his fat hand. Shaun put the crumpled bills into his palm, and as his father counted the bills, he went to his mother, rubbing her drenched back.

"Boy, you better get your skinny ass back here, and let your Mama be, she got what she deserved. And what the fuck is this from Peoples?"

"Rat poison."

"Did I tell you to buy that shit?"

"Yeah. We got rats in the basement."

"Like hell we do…" he paused and said, "Wait a minute, I did see some of those fuckers this morning behind the washer. Yeah ok. Nevermind. Now pour my beer, and fix my plate, I'm hungry as hell. If that dumb bitch mother of yours hadn't burned the steaks, I'd be done eating by now. And those Barnbusters better have extra pickles, onions, and special sauce like I asked."

"They do."

Deacon nodded and sat down in one of the old scratched up wooden chairs with Harvey's Fish House carved neatly into the back of the chair in perfect capital block letters and painted bright red. The poor chair creaked beneath Deacon's excessive weight. Shaun looked at Dolores, and they stared at each other for a moment before she looked away and grabbed a white dishtowel on the counter and began drying herself off. Her hair was long, red, and tangled like seaweed. Deacon lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Shaun tried to hug Dolores but she backed away from him, shaking her head, nodding toward Deacon who flipped through Playboy as he smoked, gazing at Gay Collier's centerfold, her bare breasts exposed as she posed on a sunny beach, in an open green shirt, her shiny red hair pushed under a straw hat.

Shaun got his father's beer mug from the cupboard. It was a tall, heavy, clear glass mug with a silhouette of a busty woman lying on her back, legs spread with a man on top of her. He opened a beer and poured it into the mug, careful not to spill a drop. He took three Barnbuster burgers oozing with tangy pickles, pungent onions, juicy red tomatoes, and creamy white special sauce and put them on a paper plate along with the golden crispy Idaho fries. Then he opened the People's bag and removed the tin canister of rat poison, quietly lifting the flat lid with a butter knife, hands shaking, he dumped two spoons of poison into the cold mug of beer, stirring it in. It took less than twenty seconds.

The transistor radio on the table played Woolly Bully, and Deacon turned up the volume, bopping his head to the music as he ogled Gay Collier. Sam banged his fist against the wall, but to no avail, it wasn't as if he could change Shaun's past, yet he felt compelled to stop it, the more he slammed his fists against the partition, the slower everything became, at least that's how he perceived it. Dolores' back was turned the entire time, as she continued drying her hair, her head down, and face obscured by her long red, disheveled mane, a far cry from the professionally groomed locks of the Playboy centerfold Deacon drooled over. Suddenly, she looked up from her task and stared into the doorway.

Sam knew she saw him, her blue eyes widened in shock, and for a moment they gazed at each other. Her mouth fell open, and it appeared as if she were about to scream, but Shaun accidentally bumped into her, startling her, as he walked across the kitchen and sat the burgers and beer in front of Deacon.

"About goddamn time," he said, grinding out his cigarette on the table and taking a big gulp of beer, "I bust my ass all day at the factory, and all I want is a hot meal waiting for me, is that too much to ask?"

Shaun stood by the table and listened to his rant. Dolores looked back toward the doorway, squinting her eyes, and Sam realized she could no longer see him. Meanwhile, Deacon took a big bite out of his burger, special sauce dribbling on his double chin, he devoured it, smacking his lips, he drank half of his beer, before he started eating another one.

Shaun wiped up the gray cigarette ashes off the table with a Red Barn napkin. Deacon glared at him.

"You would make a good wife for somebody," he said, then he dropped the half-eaten burger onto the plate, clutching his stomach, sweat trickled from his forehead, "I don't feel good."

Dolores threw the dishtowel on the counter and walked over to the table.

"What's wrong?"

"Bitch, didn't you hear me? I don't feel good," he said, collapsing onto the floor. His breathing labored.

"Shaun, call the Fire Department," Dolores said, kneeling beside Deacon, touching his face.

"The phone is cut off."

"What?"

"It got cut off yesterday."

"That's crazy. I know I paid the bill." She stood up and went to the yellow phone mounted on the wall when she saw the open container of rat poison and the spoon beside it on the counter near the empty Red Barn bag. She looked down at Deacon writhing about in pain on the floor, and then at Shaun who stood over him, emotionless. He looked up from his dying father and gazed at Dolores, who stood by the counter, putting everything together in her mind. She lifted the receiver, and the dial tone frequency could be heard in one, long continuous hum until it broke into stuttered notes indicating the phone was off the hook.

"I can't breathe," Deacon said, "Why are y'all standing there like assholes? Help me; please help me, I can't…"

Dolores hung up the phone.

"Shaun?"

He didn't answer, only stared down at Deacon, who was coughing up blood, his sweaty skin shined under the harsh light and turned a deathly shade of white; he looked like a Beluga whale washed ashore.

They stared down at him as he took his last few breaths.

"How could you -," he said, before closing his eyes, slipping into unconsciousness.

Dolores stood beside Shaun and held his hand.

They remained silent until Shaun turned away from the lifeless body on the floor and hugged Dolores. There were no tears. She held Shaun tight, closing her eyes, her thin, wet, bruised body all broken and defeated, suddenly had strength when embracing him. Then Shaun screamed, clinging to his mother: it was unreal like a horror movie except no monsters jumped out of the darkness. His pain, anger, anguish, and despair embodied that awful, ear-splitting yell, and it sliced into you, digging into your flesh until there was nothing more to reveal inside, and you were left hollow with the trauma and hell you created. His face flushed red, and his brown eyes resembled dark marbles – empty and soulless.

Dolores held him a long time, and after he calmed down, she guided him to a chair, and he sat down, kneeling in front of him she touched his cheek. Shaun stared at her, saying nothing. Standing up, she went to the sink and put on a pair of yellow rubber gloves hanging on the faucet. His mother opened the cabinet and took out two large glass bottles of turpentine and kerosene. Opening the bottles, she kneeled beside Deacon's body and poured the liquid onto his corpse: the yellowish, sticky substance, soaked into his clothes, and a strong odor of pine trees and black licorice filled the kitchen. Next, she emptied the entire bottle of kerosene, and the clear fluid had an acrid diesel fuel scent, mixing in with the piney odor of the turpentine. She grabbed Deacon's hands and put his fingerprints on both bottles, before setting them down beside him. She rose from the floor, and picked up a red matchbook from Junebug Distillery from off of the table and his pack of cigarettes, and put his fingerprints on those items too. Then she put a cigarette into his fat, greasy mouth.

"Go outside," she said.

Shaun got up from the table and walked to the door, looking over his shoulder at his mother, watching what she was about to do next. He put a hand on the doorknob but remained in the kitchen. She looked at him.

"Shaun."

He opened the door but didn't go outside. Dolores didn't bother scolding him and finished the task of lighting the cigarette, and then striking a match and lighting his body on fire. And for a horrible moment, Deacon's eyes opened, and Shaun saw him look at him and Dolores, right before the flames engulfed him. His father gave a pitiful scream for mercy before losing consciousness once more. Dolores picked up Shaun and ran out of the house, and soon flames were everywhere, destroying the small brick house they called home, Shaun looked back at Sam, shaking his head in sorrow, tears running down his cheeks, and for a second he became adult Shaun.

"Go!" He said.

Sam felt the heat of the fire and could only watch everything from behind the invisible wall, though now he could push his hand through and he felt another hand touch his, small and soft, and an image of Mercedes standing in her bathroom gazing at her reflection came into view. She wore a red headband on her fluffed out Afro, and her doe eyes searched for something. Suddenly, Sam wasn't in the Fronheiser kitchen anymore, but somewhere in space and time with no definition: an empty sea of white, an eerie nothingness. Mercedes placed her hand against the glass, and it went through the mirror, she tried to pull it back, but Sam held it tight, squeezing her small fingers.

"Mercedes!"

"Sam?" Her voice was scared and confused, "What's happening? Where are you? Are you ok? Is something wrong with Shaun?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I felt it. I don't know. The mirror changed to a liquid. I can't see you. Can you see me? You've been gone two days. Something is happening here. The sky is changing colors."

"Yes. I can see you. Two days? Are you serious?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"I honestly don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know. It's like I'm standing in nothing. What's this about the sky?"

"Everything is crazy. The sky is changing colors, I swear, like a rainbow. People are standing in the street watching it like it's a fireworks show. Is this a message from Bicav?"

Her voice grew muffled with static; he could feel her hand in his, yet the power of her touch weakened, he slowly lost her.

"Mercedes!"

He heard her say his name, and he couldn't feel her hand any longer. The connection closed and he was left alone in the white nothing.

 **ooo**

Mercedes sat on the bathroom floor, shaken and crying. She had no idea what to do. When she came into the bathroom to brush her teeth, standing in front of the mirror, she saw it change for a brief moment, and it resembled liquid silver. She thought she was dreaming, but curiosity got the better of her, and she pushed her hand inside and made the connection with Sam. Now she had lost him. What was wrong with Shaun? Was he dead? During their two-day disappearance, she became sick and couldn't work at the diner. Quinn and Spoony dropped by to check on her, bringing cold medicine and a big pot of homemade chicken soup. Watching how loving and caring they were toward her, she broke down and told them everything. She asked them if they had access to a cellar or bomb shelter, and said the blue lights in the sky on New Years Day were a sign of an alien invasion, she told them about the time loop and Sam's true identity. Mercedes thought the shelters were the easiest access for safety because, during the 60s, many Americans built bomb shelters for protection against a nuclear attack due to the Cold War. In downtown Cincinnati, the subway tunnels were once converted into defense shelters and stocked with barrels of drinking water and supplies.

After Mercedes told them about Earth's fate, Quinn insisted on taking her temperature because she believed Mercedes was delirious with fever, and Spoony put a cold compress on her head. She had a 102 fever, and they took her to the ER where the doctor on staff examined her and declared she was severely dehydrated. After the ER doctor wrote a prescription for antibiotics and gave instructions for plenty of fluids and rest, Spoony drove them to the drugstore to fill the order, and then back to her apartment. He and Quinn stayed another hour and then headed out, promising to call, each hugging her, and telling her the story she told them was only a bad dream. Though Mercedes was grateful for their love and kindness, her futile efforts to warn them left her feeling defeated and hopeless.

Her phone rang. She got up and went to the living room to answer it.

"Hello"

"Mercedes, it's me."

The moment she heard the low, throaty voice with a touch of authoritative toughness, she knew who "me" was.

"Santana."

"I know it's crazy that I'm calling you and - "

"Are you ok?"

"Aside from the acid trip in the sky, I'm fine. I'm across the street at the payphone. I came to see you."

"Now isn't a good time."

"I got no place to go… Mercy please."

"You got any stuff on you?"

"Only pot. I swear."

"If I find any needles…"

"Nothing, honey, believe me."

"Ok, come over."

She hung up and went downstairs to meet Santana at the entrance. It was early in the morning, and people gathered in the street to gawk at the ever-changing colors in the sky. Santana's tattered clothing couldn't protect her from the bitter cold, and she shivered in her thin denim jacket and black turtleneck sweater, her patched green corduroy pants, covered her legs and hips like a second skin, and her long, black hair hung free, but she was too thin. Dark circles were under her eyes, and her left cheek was bruised. Mercedes didn't want to look at the sky, it unnerved her, and now with Sam and Shaun missing, it only put her on edge. The colors thing had been happening for an hour. She pulled Santana inside the entryway, and the women embraced; she smelled like body odor and gasoline, and she held on a little too long so Mercedes pulled away.

"Come on; it's freezing down here."

"You feeling ok?"

"I've been sick."

"You look younger. Did you get a facelift?"

"No, just Oil of Olay."

Mercedes could tell Santana didn't believe her but let the subject drop. They went to her apartment where her ex-girlfriend collapsed onto the couch.

"I'm exhausted. What's with all this shit happening in the sky?"

"I don't know."

"Beginning of Armageddon?"

"Probably. Do you want to take a shower?"

"Together?" Santana said, raising her eyebrows and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"San, don't start. You smell."

Santana hung her head.

"I'm sorry. It's rough. Gas station restrooms don't cut it."

Mercedes wasn't sure what to say. She wondered what happened with Santana in Columbus, but she had enough problems of her own. And then she regretted offering her friend a shower because she wanted to see if it was even possible to contact Sam again.

"That's ok. Go take a shower and give me all of your clothes, I can throw them in the washer downstairs. I have an old nightshirt you can wear. It'll be way too big, though."

"Stop," Santana said, staring at her, "You're not too big."

Mercedes avoided her intense gaze and went into the kitchen.

"Go shower."

Santana sighed and went to the bathroom, once she heard the door close, Mercedes cried in the kitchen. Everyone she knew could die, and she didn't know how to stop it. After her crying jag was over, she turned on the television. Every news station covered the strange color phenomenon in the sky. Local anchors Kathy Adams and Ken Finerty of News Center 8 in Cleveland interviewed University of Ohio scientists attempting to get an explanation about what was happening. As she watched Kathy ask one of the scientists a somewhat probing question on what they thought about the changing sky colors, looking attractive with her curled hair, and shiny plum lipstick, Mercedes recalled Shaun's crush on the anchor and her heart broke; she hoped he was alive. After the interview, Ken read an official statement from President Ford, imploring the American people not to be alarmed about the unexplained phenomenon until they obtained more information.

The phone rang. Mercedes turned down the TV volume and answered it.

"Hello."

"Hello Jupiter, it's Aunt Katherine. How are you?"

Every time her aunt used her childhood nickname she felt like a little girl all over again.

"I've been better. What do you think is happening?"

"I wish I knew. Everyone at NASA is speculating."

Her Aunt Katherine worked at NASA as an aerospace technologist calculating trajectories of space flights, and before that she was a human computer before they used digital computers. Mercedes' father was proud of his sister and often spoke of how she calculated Alan Shepard's space flight back in 1961. But it wasn't public knowledge, and when Mercedes told the kids at school, everyone said she was a liar.

"Aunt Katherine, do you believe there's more than what we can see?"

"What do you mean?"

"That other worlds exist."

Her Aunt Katherine paused and said:

"I believe everything is science and physics. I also believe in God."

"Even if the bible contradicts itself and is irrational?"

"What is this about?"

Mercedes said nothing as Cuddles purred beside her. After a few seconds she spoke:

"You know that bomb shelter you and Uncle James had built?"

"Of course."

"Stock it up with food and water. Take all your most precious belongings and stay down there."

"What's going on?"

"You'll have to trust me."

"Come to Virginia."

"I'm sorry but I can't."

"Jupiter, tell me what's going on."

"As I said, you'll have to trust me. I have to go."

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"I want to tell you a story."

Mercedes had no patience for stories. She didn't want to listen to a long-winded tale, but her aunt was kind to her, and she didn't want to hurt one of the few people alive who loved her.

"Ok," she said, settling back into the couch.

Aunt Katherine cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

"When I was a little girl, I had a passion for numbers. I counted everything I could. Steps to our house steps to the church, the silverware, you name it, I counted it. Behind our house on Church Street in the backyard, there was a maple tree I was rather fond of, and my father made a swing for it. I spent many hours swinging from that tree. Every day, no matter the weather, I would go to the backyard, count the steps to the tree and get on my swing. But then something peculiar happened. I knew the exact amount of steps it took to get to the tree, it was 50 steps, but one day, I counted 51 steps, and then the next it was 52."

"Perhaps your counting was off."

"No, because for a year it was 50. I didn't suddenly become inept at simple counting. It was like the tree was moving away from me. I told my father who said I must have imagined it. It was a strange, lonely time for me because I was about to go to high school in Institute, West Virginia and I was only ten years old. I couldn't go to school in White Sulphur Springs because their school wasn't advanced enough for me, and I excelled in math. Anyway, every day the number of paces increased until one day it was 60. I got on my swing, and as I began swinging, I kept going higher and higher, like I was floating and then I wasn't in our yard anymore. I went through this clear glass wall and ended up somewhere else. I can't describe it, but it was this magnificent, perfect world with crystal pools and bright blue sky. I saw a clear human form by the pool; I think it was female, because of its curvy shape, her eyes were large and a kaleidoscope of colors. It was like she was made of water. I walked over to her but then she vanished, and I was falling, and suddenly I was in the backyard again on my swing. My mother was holding the rope that held the swing, and she was staring down at me all concerned. She asked why I couldn't hear her calling me inside for supper. It was sunset. I swear I was only on the swing a few minutes and when I got on the sun was shining brightly. Now it was evening. I knew better than to tell her what happened. So I kept my mouth shut. I've never told anyone. Not even my husbands. Nobody. You're the first person I've ever told."

"Why?"

"I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy."

"My father saw angels."

"That's different. Religion and the bible on were on his side. What did I have? These weren't angels. I felt like I was only there for a few minutes. It turns out it was hours. I read and researched and came up with theories, but nothing satisfied me with an answer. You were always different, Jupiter. I never knew if it was a good or bad thing. I want to help you if I can. I always knew I would tell you my story. Was I on another planet? Was it heaven or hell? I've asked more questions and had no answers. One thing I am certain of, I know it wasn't a dream."

"I think it was another realm, though I'm not saying anything for sure. I believe you weren't on Earth."

"So do I. When you asked me about other worlds, it was all I could do to stay calm. Nobody has ever broached the question with me before."

Mercedes then told her everything. From Sam being from Zyfonia and the Aekehmean invasion to the time loop and the bathroom mirror connecting her to Sam in another dimension. Her aunt listened without interruption; when she finished her story, she felt relieved because at least someone heard her secret, even though she doubted it would do much good. It wasn't like Aunt Katherine would go to NASA with this fantastical narrative that was akin to a sci-fi movie, risking her prestigious career for her niece. At 58 years old she had done well for herself, and was an active member of her community and the Carver Memorial Presbyterian Church, a no-nonsense woman with quiet confidence and resolve, but underneath she had a secret just like Mercedes, and for the first time in ages, she felt less alone in the world. After she finished her story, Mercedes listened to her aunt breathing on the other end and waited for her response.

"I believe you," Aunt Katherine said, her voice quivering a bit, "I just don't know how to help."

"I only want you and Uncle James to be safe. Get your stuff together and stay in the bomb shelter. Sam and I are figuring out how we can warn people."

"I honestly don't believe that's possible."

"Neither do I, but we have to try."

"Please be careful. If I think of something, I'll let you know."

"You be careful too. I love you."

"I love you too, Jupiter."

Mercedes hung up and went into the kitchen. She heated the pot of chicken soup Quinn and Spoony made for her and also made grilled cheese sandwiches. Then she remembered her closet mirror and went to see if she could make a connection that way. As she walked to her bedroom, she saw a pile of Santana's funky clothes in the center of the hallway, she pushed them aside with her foot and went to her room closing the door. Her full-length mirror hung on her closet door. She stood in front of it and stared into it, hoping to see it transform the way it did in the bathroom, but nothing happened, and she felt defeated. Then suddenly it turned pitch black outside as if it were the middle of the night and not early morning. She went and looked out her window. Everything was dark, and it looked like the stars and moon were colliding in the sky. Mercedes was frightened. Was this the invasion? Santana knocked on her bedroom door.

"Mercy?"

Mercedes stumbled to the door and tried to turn on her light, but the electricity was out. She remembered the flashlight in her nightstand drawer and managed to get it. Turning it on, she opened the door, and Santana stood before her wrapped in a big, white towel, her hair was soaking wet. The flashlight illuminated her thin form.

"Why is it dark?"

"I don't know. I'm scared."

"You're crying."

Mercedes didn't say anything and sat on the bed. Santana sat beside her. Their shoulders touched.

"It's probably an electrical glitch or something."

"Electrical glitches don't turn day into night."

It began thundering outside, and the apartment rumbled as if an earthquake were brewing. Then the bedroom mirror began to glow and turned into liquid silver; she heard Sam's voice:

"Mercedes!"

Mercedes went to the mirror, dropping the flashlight on the floor.

"Sam, I'm here."

"What the fuck?" Santana said.

"I can see you," he said, "But barely, why is it so dark?"

"I wish I could see you," Mercedes said, and thrust her hand through the mirror.

Sam grabbed her hand squeezing it.

"Are you ok?" he said

Santana picked up the flashlight and grabbed Mercedes' arm.

"What the hell is happening? Why are you talking to a guy named Sam through a mirror? How can your hand go through glass?"

Mercedes looked at Santana's panic-stricken face, her eyes wide, her delicate hands gripped Mercedes' arm.

"It's a long story," Mercedes said, "I wish I had more time to explain."

Sam's grip on her hand through the mirror tightened.

"Mercedes!"

The rumbling continued. Santana held her arm, squeezing her flesh. When they were together, Santana loved holding her. After lovemaking, in the daybreak hours, she held Mercedes close, compressing their bodies together, her hand gliding over her ample backside, grabbing the soft flesh, and there were quiet non-erotic moments, Sunday morning idle moments when Santana crept up behind Mercedes as she scrambled eggs in their tiny, sunlit kitchen, her arms encircling her curvy waist, squeezing her tight.

 _"My Mercy" she whispered, kissing her neck._

Santana even wrote a song called "Squeeze" about Mercedes, dedicating it to her before singing it in a New York, smoke-filled coffee house, where women could love each other without judgment. She sang with her guitar, her voice mournful, beautiful, and indescribably Santana, all vulnerable and courageous, opening her heart. She stared at Mercedes until it was over and the applause erupted. Santana stepped off the stage, hugging Mercedes as everyone cheered around them.

 _"I love you, Mercy."_

And Mercedes felt loved and beautiful.

Other moments were tragic, like when Santana clung to Mercedes as she crashed after getting high, shaking in her arms, desperate and afraid, and Mercedes rocked her like a baby, telling her everything would be fine until it was over.

And now Santana clung to her arm. The building quaked and rumbled, dust and small chunks of the ceiling fell on them.

"What the fuck is happening?" Santana said.

"Mercedes," Sam said, his voice growing faint, "I think you might be able to crossover through the mirror. I want you to come. You're not safe where you are. I feel the Earth shifting."

"How can I come through?"

"Push your entire body through the mirror, but do it now, the portal will shut down again soon."

The apartment building shook again, cracks formed on the walls, and the windows broke.

"Take me with you," Santana said, pressing against her, holding her hand, smelling like sweet floral soap, her wet hair touched Mercedes' shoulder as they began to go through the mirror, and she pulled Santana by the hand, but the portal closed, shutting Santana out, leaving her behind. Santana screamed holding on as long as she could, but they were quickly separated, and Mercedes heard glass shatter and a sonorous rumble, as the portal shut itself, and she fell through the darkness until she heard Sam calling her name, feeling his presence through the invisible warm blanket he created, and she landed in a white nothingness, with Sam standing before her, arms outstretched.

Mercedes hugged him to her chest, holding him tight, shaking in his arms from fear and exhaustion, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

"I got you," Sam said.

Mercedes cried as he held her, and Sam let her cry until she no tears remained. They sat on the ground, and he kissed her forehead. It surprised Mercedes; it was unexpected but soothing and sweet. An odd flutter rippled in her stomach.

"Someone was with you," Sam said.

"Santana."

Sam didn't respond, and Mercedes wondered what he was thinking.

"Oh," he said.

"I had to leave her behind. How will she survive?"

"I don't know."

"I don't like this place."

"Neither do I."

"Where's Shaun?"

"That's hard to explain."

"Is he alive?"

"I hope so."

Sam put his arm around her; she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Those sky colors weren't from Bicav," he said looking down and examining her face, "You're ill."

"I came down with something when you and Shaun disappeared."

He gazed into her eyes, blue lights emitted from his pupils.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Checking you over. Those doctors gave you those worthless antibiotics. You made yourself sick."

"Thanks a lot. And I don't think my medication is worthless," she said thinking of the kindhearted ER doctor that helped her. Sam's attitude annoyed her.

"This isn't a physical illness," he said.

"So I'm mental?"

"No, sorry, I meant… what I meant is that you're hurting. Our disappearance hurt you, and it manifested into illness."

"I feel lousy, and I'm scared. I also had a high fever yesterday, so this isn't all in my head."

Tears filled her eyes, and she wanted to push him away, but his blue light calmed her; he touched her chest and abdomen and quick electric shocks pulsated within her, and her symptoms vanished though she felt fatigued. Sam hugged her.

"I'm sorry."

"I left everyone behind. Aunt Katherine, Santana, Quinn, Spoony, everyone could be dying as we speak. And now we're stuck in this place. You know Shaun's mother called me when he went missing again. She was so upset on the phone. I couldn't tell her anything. It was awful."

"This isn't over," he said.

"We don't even know where we are. How can it not be over?"

"I think maybe – "

Sam ceased speaking when they heard screaming, and the white nothingness faded around them, revealing a burning brick house and a mother and son standing on the lawn. Mercedes smelled smoke and felt the heat of the flames, though they were behind a glass wall. The skinny boy looked at her, and she realized it was Shaun as a child. He stared at her, and for a split second she saw college man Shaun, or perhaps she imagined it. His mother hugged him tight against her chest and slowly transformed into a golden angel-like being with emerald eyes. The creature grew tall, cradling Shaun in her arms, as wings sprouted from her broad back and smaller wings on its head.

Then the angel spoke:

"Shaun, you can be forgiven."

Shaun gazed up at her, hypnotized by her presence. Mercedes felt uneasy and held Sam's hand.

"Is that – "

Sam nodded, squeezing her hand. "It's the Aekehmeans. They change their form at will."

The burning brick house vanished and the glass wall dissolved. Everyone stood in an open green meadow filled with sunflowers and in the middle of the lush greener stood a large, three-story futuristic, rectangular white house with lots of windows, it was like a house in science fiction or another planet with its sharp lines and angles. Shaun transformed into his adult self, and the angel released him. He stood mesmerized by what was around him.

"My dream," he said.

"Indeed it is," the angel said, "My name is Tarsa, and I can help you." her voice rather ominous, her emerald eyes bore into Shaun's, seizing everything within him, it was as if she were uncovering every secret hidden inside him, and Shaun acquiesced to her intrusion, letting down any defenses he once put up. He stayed fixated on her, tears falling down his pale cheeks. And Mercedes realized Tarsa diminished any pain Shaun carried, her voice and beauty trapped him under her extraterrestrial powers, luring him further into her trap. She embraced him, humming softly, it was somewhat reminiscent of a mother's soothing lullaby, but also had undertones of a siren's allure. They held one another a long time as she hummed and sang in a language foreign to them, and Shaun continued crying, confessing his sins:

"I'm so sorry; please forgive me. I hated him. He hurt us so bad."

"You can be forgiven and have all of this. Don't you want your dream?"

"I hurt my mother so bad, dragged her down, I wanted to protect her."

"So you did. But I can take that all away."

"Please take it."

"I'll take your sins and your pain. But you must do two things for me."

"What are they?"

"First, say goodbye to them," she said pointing to Sam and Mercedes.

He let go of the angel and walked over to them, tears in his eyes.

"Isn't this beautiful?" He said, hugging them, "Good-bye, I'm staying here forever."

Mercedes didn't like the way the air felt, warm and balmy, too calm, everything was unsettling beneath the harsh sunlight. But Shaun was in his version of heaven.

"Shaun," Sam whispered, "This is a bad place. We have to leave. She's an Aekehmean."

"I feel free," Shaun said.

"No, listen."

"You know what I did."

Mercedes looked at them, trying to understand what was going on, then she said:

"I don't know everything, but I do know this. If you stay, it could ruin you. I can't explain how or why or anything but listen to us. We're trying to help you," She said, "None of this is real. What about your mother, college, and life back in Lima?"

Shaun shook his head.

"You don't get it. My life sucked. I never fit in anywhere. I belong here. I did an awful thing, and I can start over here. "

"Start over in a fantasy?"

"This is real."

"No, it isn't," Mercedes said, grabbing his hands.

"She'll make it real."

"Don't listen to Tarsa," Sam said. "Listen to us."

"I want to stay."

"It's a trap," Mercedes said.

"What about what happened in the car?" Sam said, trying to reason with him, "Don't you see they're doing it again?"

"No, this is heaven," Shaun said, "It's wonderful here, don't you feel it?"

Meanwhile, Tarsa pointed at Shaun and pulled him back toward her, without touching him, his eyes widened in shock, as he had no control over his movements. The front door of the house opened and a tall silver robot and a little girl about four years old emerged from the house, she had light brown kinky hair styled in two Afro puffs, and copper toned skin. The robot walked beside the girl, speaking to her.

"Careful, child."

The little girl ran over to Shaun.

"Daddy!"

Shaun looked down at her as she hugged his legs gazing up at him.

"The signals came," she said. "The machine ticked."

"Louise, don't bother your father," a woman's voice from inside the house said, "Come back inside."

Shaun touched her face.

"Louise."

"Yes?"

He picked up the little girl.

"You've got my eyes."

"Mommy made us lunch."

Tarsa spoke:

"How can you leave your wife behind or this precious child? They're real. Don't listen to them."

Sam walked over to them with Mercedes beside him.

"You can't make something real unless you live. Does anybody else live here? When was Louise born? Who is your wife? Where are we?"

"I don't like them," Louise said, frowning at Sam and Mercedes. "Make them go away."

"I'm not leaving them behind. I could never have this back home. I'm a bad person, but here I'm forgiven," Shaun said to them, "I belong here. My past doesn't matter."

Tarsa looked at Sam and Mercedes:

"He said goodbye. What good are you to him?"

"We tell him the truth," Sam said.

"No you hurt his soul, and you," Tarsa said, peering down at Mercedes, "Do you love Shaun the way he loves you?"

"It's ok, Mercedes," Shaun said, "I understand."

Mercedes placed her hand on his shoulder while Louise scowled at her.

"Don't listen to her. Come back with us. I don't know what you did or anything about your past. But I do love you Shaun, which is why I want you to come with us."

Mercedes told the truth. She loved him, though she didn't realize it until then, he was her family. Who else spoke with her about the stars and cheered her up on her darkest days. Though her feelings never spilled into romance; they were valid and real. Perhaps if she had known how he felt about her maybe things would be different, she always assumed Quinn was the object of his affection. He was kind-hearted, crazy and sweet; she couldn't imagine losing him to something like this. Whatever he did, wouldn't change those feelings.

"Your platonic love isn't what he wants," Tarsa said, "Why are you standing in the way of his happiness? Both of you are terrible creatures."

"Make them go away," Louise said, burying her face into the crook of Shaun's neck, "They say bad things."

"I'm nothing in my other life. Sam can tell you what I did. Please leave."

"Shaun no I – "

"I killed my father!" Shaun said, his face red, tears falling from his eyes, "I caused my mother pain but I freed her too, and we lived with that for a long time."

The shock of what he said almost caused Mercedes to lose her balance and Sam held her, whispering in her ear.

"I've got you."

Regardless of what Shaun did, Mercedes' love did not diminish.

"I don't care what you did. A fake paradise isn't the place for you."

Suddenly a loud rumble was heard, and the ground beneath them shook.

"They're attacking Earth," Sam said.

"Daddy, make it stop," Louise said.

"What about your mother. She can't function since you and Sam disappeared. Why cause her pain again?" Mercedes asked.

Shaun clung to Louise.

"I don't want to hurt Mom. I love her."

"Then leave this place," Mercedes said as the rumbling grew louder than before and the sunlight faded.

"I want forgiveness."

"I don't feel good," Louise said, her skin turning gray.

"She's dying," Tarsa said, "How can you let her die?"

Shaun looked at his daughter, touching her face.

"Hold on, baby."

"You have one more task to save her life," Tarsa said.

"What is it?"

"Kill them," she said, pointing at Mercedes and Sam, "Take this dagger and plunge it into their hearts. She doesn't love you, and he's only a half-human alien with tainted blood. They're trying to take away the one chance of happiness you have. You're a worthless murderer, but here you will be the man you always wanted to be. Do not worry after your mother; she will be fine."

"No, she won't," Mercedes said, "Shaun everything is chaos on Earth."

The dagger was gold and encrusted with emeralds. Shaun gazed at it as Tarsa held it out to him.

"Daddy, I can't breathe," Louise said, her eyes closing.

"Don't close your eyes," Shaun said.

Tarsa glared at Shaun, her expression dark.

"She'll die. Kill them if you want her to live."

"How does more killing atone for my sins?"

Mercedes squeezed Shaun's arm.

"Remember the night we went to the observatory for the meteor shower? How much fun we had? Or when you surprised me for my birthday and got me that star map? And that silly disco we went to with Quinn and Puck, and we danced under that silver ball, and all of us went to Burger Barn afterward? And when all of us hung out at the drive-in, cracking jokes on that B-movie? You're a huge part of my life. You went with me to get my tattoo and held my hand and sang Love to Love You Baby to calm me down, even though you couldn't sing worth a damn? I'm sorry I never told you I loved you. I must not have realized it. But I'm saying it now. I love you, Shaun. You matter. Yes, you're different, a beautiful kind of different, and I don't know the whole story about what you did in the past, but you're more than that. Trust me. You dreamed Louise. You didn't see her come into the world. Hear her first word. She isn't dying because she doesn't exist. None of this does. You may not have had a robot, big house, perfect wife and daughter in the other world but never think you weren't loved."

"Your sweet words are meaningless. Shaun knows what he is. And how your love is not that of a wife," Tarsa said.

"My love isn't romantic, but I shut down having feelings for a long time for anyone if the timing was different… I don't know. But I do know you won't lessen my love to convince him he's worthless."

"Shaun, you have to welcome the pain," Sam said, "Welcome and embrace it, that's the only way to fight this. We're powerless over your journey because you're the only one who manifests it. You can't escape the pain because it always finds you. Even in fantasies."

Shaun fell to the ground crying, holding Louise who was close to death; her skin ashen. The air turned, and the sun went behind the clouds.

"You fool," Tarsa said, holding the dagger as the wind grew stronger, "There's no turning back."

Then she looked at Sam and Mercedes.

"I need your blood," she said and aimed the dagger at Mercedes, a golden laser shot out of the blade, but Sam shielded her and Shaun rose up, screaming, holding his hands toward the death ray, blocking it with the white lasers that shot out of his palm. The house, robot and sunflower-filled meadow disappeared, as the ground broke apart and separated beneath them. Louise turned to gray ashes and fluttered away in the wind.

Sam held Mercedes, as the chaos unfolded around them. Tarsa turned all her attention to Shaun, aiming the dagger at him, as he let his pain rule the fantasy. Every part of him that hurt now had a place in this realm. All around them they heard screams and ugly words. His father's hateful diatribes, his mother's cries for help, the schoolyard bullies taunting him on the playground, the smell of cigarettes, liquor, and muddy shoes filled the air. Then the images appeared: His father's burning corpse, the rat poison on the counter, the firemen covering he and his mother with a blanket, bruised bodies, and bottles of pills. His mother always had pills. Damp rooms. Rodents. Darkness. Always darkness. The all-consuming pain, was expanded beyond the universe itself, but now it had a place to live, breathe, and exist: pieces of his memories played like home movie dreams for everyone to see; snippets of his life on full display with no beginning or end; it was Shaun's consciousness and hell, something only he could understand.

 _His mother sat down next to him on the marble stone steps of St. Matthews Church where his father's body was in a closed white casket. Her black funeral dress shifted a bit, revealing her bruised legs beneath her silk stockings, she put her arm around him, as he stared down at his shiny black Sunday shoes. "We're in the fire together," she whispered._

 _Then the scene shifted to the police station on the night of the murder._

 _"Was your husband depressed?" The police officer asked. Sitting too close to his mother, leering at her with cold eyes, his muscular frame imposing, "Did you drive him to suicide?"_

 _Then time jumped, and Shaun was in a schoolyard standing beneath a big oak tree while his bully, a tall, bulky, freckled face kid named Lester. His denim jacket had a skull and crossbones patch stitched on the back, and he wore leather cufflinks with silver studs around his fat wrists._

 _"Your father set himself on fire because he hated you!" Lester yelled, shoving Shaun into the tree. The kids gathered around them to witness the cruelty. "Fucking faggot."_

 _"He likes Mandy." another boy said, his voice raspy, a baseball cap sat low on his brow._

 _"So he ain't a faggot, he's a nigger-lover," Lester said before spitting in his face._

Mercedes and Sam witnessed his anguish, sorrow, and despair, holding each other as the world crumbled, drifting inside Shaun's inner turmoil. Tarsa and Shaun stood on what was left of the green meadow beneath their feet, facing each other, he with his white-hot lasers conjured from within, and she with her dagger, all-powerful, and she grew taller, becoming a giant. Reaching down, she snatched up Shaun, but when she made contact with his skin, it seared her flesh, his pain was taking over, and she could no longer use it against him. He aimed his lasers into the palm of her enormous hand, and she let go of him, yelling out in pain, but Shaun did not fall; instead he floated, and as Tarsa shrank, he continued his assault on her, shooting the lasers at her body, watching it burn.

"I'm not the last," Tarsa said, her eyes closing, her body burning before them.

Sam held Mercedes tight, and she trembled in his arms, as they drifted in the air. Shaun floated over to them, through the golden smoke and ashes; his fantasy world turned to nothing, and soon they began to fall through a tunnel in the universe, both men wrapped their arms around Mercedes, protecting her.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you for reading and reviewing my story! 911 didn't come into existence until 1968 which is why Shaun's mother told him to call the Fire Department. Aunt Katherine is Katherine Johnson of Hidden Figures fame (though it's a fictionalized version of her)


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